


Freedom of the Wind

by YoungSoon



Category: Monsta X (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Romance, Historical, Historical Fantasy, Historical References, I do believe this will qualify as, M/M, Slow Burn, Tribal leader Wonho, eventual intimacy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-23
Updated: 2019-04-13
Packaged: 2019-11-04 08:01:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 34,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17894600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YoungSoon/pseuds/YoungSoon
Summary: The world is changing and growing and only the strongest can survive. In such ages deals sealed with human fate are not a rare occurrence. One such deal, however, sets off a chain of events no one is prepared for - especially the hearts of two main pieces of the deal.





	1. The Bride

**Author's Note:**

> **NOTE** : the time period of the fic is undetermined. I am using references from early medieval times and ancient times, mixing them together in a history-inspired fantasy universe. The nomad tribe is heavy influenced by Mongolians, while the other ones don't have a specific source of inspiration.  
> Do remember, that this era had a different view on humans and their worth as well as homosexuality.  
> Hope you will enjoy this historic fantasy piece!

Late midday sun of a spring day shines above the campsite. It’s rays get caught in the colorful flags at the top of the round tents and twirled away in the smoke rising from the openings in the roofs and campfires between the tents. Nothing but a field of grass around it with wildflowers blooming as far the eye could see, till the very edge of a pine forest, nestled at the foot of pointy hillocks. A herd of horses grazes further away from the camp near the forest, while a number of goats chew on fresh green grass a bit closer.

People - young and old, tall and small - hurry between the tents, bringing out the finest decorations and airing their finest outfits. Musicians tune their horse-head-violins and yatgas; both women and men working on a feast as this is the wedding day of their khan - their elected new leader and ruler. It is a tradition as old as the tribe itself, that on the first spring of a new khan’s reign he marries a woman of a mountain tribe and it is the greatest celebration for all his people. 

Such union assures safe trading paths and access to the luscious meadows till autumn comes. Each year this union will be renewed with gifts brought by traveling to the far east and given to the brides’ people. It is the way they make the deal for years and till now it has been the right choice, despite the differences between the tribes. Yet not all bore the same sentiment.

“I still think this a horrible tradition to continue,” Hoseok, the young khan, sighs heavily straightening the wide belt that had just been wrapped around his middle on top of the dark riding pants. “We don't know who she is - if she’s of royalty and knows where she is taken or have they once more picked just anyone,” he allows the woman tending to him take over the belt.

“We don't know how she looks or how she will behave - has she ever taken a step outside of her house and even seen another man apart from her father. Do you really think such marriage is a good idea?” he asks his mother, who now finished with the belt gently pushes on the broad shoulders of her son until he kneels. With a swift hand, she paints the traditional wedding signs of earth and wind on his face with blue and green paint she has on a small table next to them.

“I know you want changes but you can’t disregard tradition. This has been our spring ritual for many, many years - as the leader of our tribe you must marry a female from theirs,” she speaks calmly as she adds finer details with a smaller brush and white paint. “In all ways possible we do see it as a saving grace for them, as here they are free,” she ads and places the paint aside. She gently runs her hands through her son’s coal black hair that had been chopped short as soon as he became the ruler of the tribe and motions him to stand up.

“You don't have to love her. You don't have to be with her in the ways other men are with their wives. You just have to accept her as the gift the mountain tribe sees her,” she smiles gently at the child-like frown that appears on the face of her son. “It’s their payment for goods we trade with them from the East each year. And accepting her is our gratitude for trading routes and the meadows, you know it all. I shouldn’t be repeating it,” Hoseok’s mother ensures, her hands on his cheeks and the young khan lets' out a sigh. He takes his mother’s hands in his and presses them against his forehead in an affectionate gesture.

“I am still not sure. I have an ominous feeling in my chest,” he admits and looks in the loving eyes that always look out for him. “Don’t you?” Hoseok asks and his mother is now the one letting out a sigh. She moves closer without a word, tiptoeing, and places a kiss on her son’s forehead before moving away to take the wedding coat from the chair further in the tent.

He stands still as the embroidered and vibrant deep blue colored coat that goes well below his knees gets wrapped around him and tightened with another belt. His sword is tied to the belt and the metal weighing his side down gives him a sense of calm. A heavy pelt is placed on his shoulder and he has no way to step out of this now. He would be a lot happier to be just a bystander in this event that made his stomach curl, but destiny has decided on something else. With heavy steps, the black boots leading the way, he steps out of his tent where hundreds of admiring eyes look at him from all corners.

The tribal shaman stands nearby. The feathers on her head standing two heads high, the veil of thin fabric strips with bells on their end pulled to the sides. The woman’s eyes were always dark and endless, her sight beyond one of the mere mortals, however today they seemed to bear even more burden. She bows slightly and Hoseok returns the greeting before with wide steps she begins walking. A wooden staff, a head higher than her, hits the ground with each step - the bells at the top of it ringing, making an odd melody matching the bells and trinkets on her long leather dress as she moved. 

Hoseok follows along, doing his best to stand tall and proud. His mother follows as well as two of his most loyal soldiers. A small group of tribes’ elders walks last in the procession as they stride through the tent-village and head to the mountain pass. They leave the luscious meadows behind, the barren road that leads to the mountains is now beneath their boots. They reach the assigned spot - a line that divided the grassy fields from the rocky hills - and wait. It is an excruciating wait and hundreds of thoughts run through Hoseok’s head.

So easily he and his best men could take over the mountain savages, as he does not see them as anything else, in a day or two. But other neighboring tribes would see that as an announcement of war and no one needed war. His tribe lived in peace, yet if they were under danger nothing and no one could match their wrath on a battlefield, legends of their fierceness traveling amongst lands near and far. But would avoiding this marriage be worth bloodshed?

He is the young khan of the nomad tribe that rummages around from the North-East to the Far-East of the land and already in his short time of ruling he has gained respect from his elders. Rushed decisions could ruin it. His ability as a warrior, being the best spokesperson and his natural wit secured votes for him in the leader election less than a year ago and a load of responsibilities suddenly was on his shoulders. Making good decisions for the future of the tribe is one of them.

He is named the khan of the future by the elders, as he sees the world different from his predecessors, however even he can’t grasp many things to their fullest extent. The other tribes - the one in the mountains being on the top of the list - confuse him as their way of life is so different. His whole life is spent on the wide and free steppe, with no borders to keep him in place and nothing but his horse and sword to keep him alive needed. Like a breeze of wind, he could be wherever he wanted. The very thought of living in the valley of the mountains made him suffocate. 

During his travels with the merchants along the mountain roads, he has ever seen only men walking in the villages and on the roads. Women seemed to be hidden in their wooden homes, which are nestled between the rocks, along with children as if they didn’t even exist. Not a single woman from Hoseok’s tribe would agree to that. They were born and raised with the same roughness of the wilderness as men and not a thing could tame them. His own mother had led the women of the tribe to assist his late father on the battlefield with Hoseok still under her heart. No mountain and no man could control a nomad woman.

It is clear that they were as odd for the mountain tribe, being the rummagers of the steppe, which made the union even more mind-boggling. Yet if the mountain road would suddenly be closed for the steppe tribe, they would lose their access to iron and thus lose their weapons and become an easy target. The mountain people, however, would lose access to paper, fabric, wheat, and spices. Hoseok had to go through with this - for his people - his own feelings not being important even though he felt his chest tighten with fear as if he is riding into battle.

Hoseok witnessed the previous ruler struggling with his wife for many years until she finally realized that she was not a property, not a prisoner and not a gift. She was a simple girl, deemed the most beautiful by the mountain tribe, torn from her family on the day of the wedding with no saying in her existence. It’s said she cried for three days after arriving in the camp and only the patience of the late leader brought her to life in this new place. She became a great advisor for the late khan that led the tribe to prosper, yet when the leader passed away she followed the barbaric tradition of taking her own life and resting forever with her husband. 

The wait comes to an end and a perfect silence settles on the border of the mountains and the steppe, where the young khan stands. Till the last second he silently prays to the ancestors this wouldn’t happen but a group of men approaches them slowly from the mountain pass. For his surprise, there are no women among the ones approaching -  only men, some younger some older, yet no women. At first, it worries him, his hand itching to reach for the hilt of his sword, but he continues observing. He feels his men tense behind him a well and the ominous feeling from his chest only grows stronger. They could the party down, no doubt, but what would mean later on?

The crowd stops a few meters from the natural border and spreads apart giving way to a young slim man. He's wearing the best the neighboring tribe can offer - pelts of mountain animals over his shoulders, simple brown coat with only embroidered sleeves and collar over riding pants of the same color and long boots. His face is painted in white and red with traditional wedding colors of a bride. A hat of a new groom sits on top of his head, the beaded veil partially covering his face; his shoulder-length deep brown hair creating shadows on his face. His brown eyes look at the ground as he walks to the border of the two terrains and remains standing still.

In confusion Hoseok first looks at his mother who looks at the process wide-eyed and then at the shaman by his side, who has lines of worries all over her forehead. Her dark eyes looking past the boy to the mountain pass behind him. Hoseok’s eyes go to the leader of the mountain tribe, who smiles proudly - ear to ear - and that alone boils Hoseok’s blood. What were they playing at? Did they want to start a war right here? Did they expect for Hoseok to reject the boy before him and give a reason for bloodshed? He once more looks at his mother who, though looking horrified, nods and when he turns to the shaman, her eyes still focusing in the distance, she nods as well.

Hoseok takes a step closer and reaches out his hand toward the boy who first looks at it and then at Hoseok. Without a doubt he is gorgeous - with skin so pale and soft it is clear he has not seen the sunlight in large amounts. But it's obvious he is terrified, his eyes glassy, and he shouldn't be here. He almost looks lost for a second but he places his hand in Hoseok’s. The latter squeezes it a bit tighter, hoping it would reassure the boy that whatever this is it will end soon. The shaman now stands next to them and counts a prayer to the ancestors over their joined hands. Hoseok is ready to end this all as he sees the boy squeezing his eye shut and swallowing loudly. He glances at the mountain leader who has probably the most disgusting smile on his face but Hoseok does his very best to remain calm, he has to.

As the blessing ritual ends a representative from Hoseok’s side and one from the mountain tribe step forward, exchanging symbolic gifts of gold and iron before the mountain tribe leaves, not sparing a single glance at the boy they are leaving behind. Only when they are gone it seems that the boy breathes, inhaling and exhaling deeply almost losing his balance if not Hoseok catching him.

“Are you alright?” he asks as he steadies the boy on his feet and looks into his eyes. The color and the shine reminds him of the fresh coat of newborn foal and the frightened look matches it too. “Don’t be afraid,” he speaks as gently as he can with his blood boiling in his veins. This is the most preposterous act the mountain tribe has ever committed. He had heard the tribe between the two rivers used to wed men, their kings being elected as well, but why would the mountain people initiate this?

“Let’s return to the camp,” the shaman says, her voice grave serious her eyes still looking in the distance at seemingly nothing. “We will celebrate the same way as we would and not break the customs. The spirits are restless already,” she adds before turning towards the road and leading the way back to the camp, even the bells on her dress now sounding different. With his heart heavy yet trusting the shaman, Hoseok lets out a breath and reaches his hand out once again, offering it to the boy.

“What is your name?” he asks, as the boy looks at his outstretched hand through the beaded veil.

“Changkyun,” he speaks quietly, but his voice comes from deep in his chest, a hidden power locked behind the role pushed on him. He lays his hand in Hoseok’s and is not soft or delicate in, the roughness of holding a tool or a weapon visible, yet the mercilessness of the steppe winds have never razed it.

“Come with me, ChangKyun,” Hoseok says as he gives the hand in his a light squeeze. “We will figure this out,” he adds and the young man simply nods. They begin to walk behind the shaman, who seems to be in a rush, and the boy’s legs seem to have lost all will to move, as he trips and almost loses his balance. His grip on Hoseok’s hand tightens and it’s full of strength a frame hidden by the clothes, that now seem big on him and hiding his true stance, caries in a way most would probably not notice.

The young khan waits as ChangKyun steadies himself and starts walking slowly again, slowing down until their steps match. The way to the camp seems twice as long as it is and each step makes the reality of the situation to sink in even more. Hoseok’s feelings were not lying, this twist is out of the ordinary, but now he has no choice, once more, but to go with it.

As they walk between the tents - the light of torches melting together with the orange tone of the setting sun - it seems that the people of the tribe don’t notice what is not exactly as expected. The music is loud, the scent of the feast traveling across the campsite. People are cheering and singing congratulatory songs, some dance on the sides of the main road of the camp as Hoseok walks past. Only a few seem to notice the young boy next to him.

Calmly he leads the procession to the set table for the feast behind his tent. His brain and his heart are in no way at ease but his sense of duty is stronger. He sits in his middle position on the stacked pillows, his legs crossed, and looks up at the boy who now seems lost as Hoseok is no longer holding his hand. “Please, sit,” the latter asks and the boy nods, kneeling on the pillows to Hoseok’s right as the khan’s mother sits on his left. The music stops and the people take seats at the smaller tables.

“A spouse of our khan has arrived,” the shaman speaks loudly, standing at the edge of the table, her veil in front of her face. “The spirits have sent him a fellow warrior, a new shield carrier who will walk the same road as out khan and help him lead us to prosperity,” she continues and raises the large leather drum he is holding at her side, hitting the stretched leather with her staff. The sound of the drums resonate across the field, the bells of the staff and the trinkets hanging from the drums ring a moment after the drums stop and the second before the sound completely disappears she hits the drums again.

When she repeats the same pattern again, she slowly steps in the middle of the feast tables that is left empty. Now her staff meets the drums even before the sound has stopped to faint and rhythm changes, growing faster and faster. Standing in one spot she begins to spin in circles, still hitting the drum, the bells and trinkets ring and shine in the light of the torch flames. It almost looks as live sparkles from all torches attach themselves to her dress as she spins faster and faster. It’s a view no one can take their eyes off. It ends with a collective gasp as she collapses on her knees on the ground - all sound stopping as the drum and the staff hit the ground as well and everything falls into silence.

Slowly, her hand with staff rises and points at the young khan. “You - the carrier of our future,” she growls in low voice. “Fear no change. Fear no obstacle. Fear no words. Fear no heart,” she shakes her staff at him and then moves to the young man beside him.

“You - the one spirits spared,” she stands up, her staff still pointing at the new spouse as she staggers forward. She barely stops at the edge of their table, the end of the staff almost touching the young man. “Spirits have brought you here. Spirits have given you a role. Spirits have given you this heart. Don’t let them down as they have trusted you with our khan,” she growls before just barely touching ChangKyun’s nose with the tip of her staff and then falling to her knees again.

Her apprentices rush to her side, steadying her on her feet, before helping the shaman to walk to her tent. There is a silence layering on top of what is supposed to be a celebration. It’s heavy and smothering even though they have all of the freedom in their hands. 

“Tonight, we shall celebrate,” Hoseok speaks and stands up. “The ancestors have given me a spouse - a companion from another land - who will rule along my side,” he raises his cup of wine high and watches how his people do the same. He glances at the man by his side and he has done it as well, the veil hiding his possibly terrified face after the shaman's words. “May ancestors bless this union and bring us the prosperity the shaman predicted,” he toasts and the crowd cheers loudly. He places the cup his lips and empties it in one go while the cheers still echo in the night.

“Feast!” he encourages as he now raises the empty cup and the tribe doesn’t have to hear it twice. With an exhale he sits back down and looks at the one who is now his spouse even according to his own words. The boy has emptied his wine cup as well and placed it on the table in front of him, his hands neatly placed in his lap as he looks at the table.

“Our wine is strong, can you handle it?” Hoseok asks and the boy jumps a little before looking at him and then back at the table.

“I can,” Changkyun responds but his cheeks are turning red even if the veil still hides them. When a man with the wine bag strides along to refill the cups, Hoseok waves him away from both his and Changkyun’s.

“The veil,” khan’s mother speaks and he turns to her, “You have to take it off, or else by tradition he is not allowed to eat or speak more than two words at a time,” she whispers and for a moment Hoseok questions this statement as it is directed to the strictly raised brides from the mountains. Did they raise this boy in the same way?

Hoseok turns to the perfectly still sitting boy. The rage that had calmed down in his chest returns. Had they really gone to the extent as to train this boy as a bride? No man should go through the humiliations that were rumored to happen in mountain tribes. No woman should endure it either, despite traditions. Carefully, he reaches over and lifts the hat off the boys head and the latter takes a deep breath.

Hoseok looks at the boy sitting next to him properly for the first time. The bridal makeup of on his face does look stunning - beyond stunning as he might be the most beautiful young man he has ever laid his eyes on - however, it feels not entirely right. He lets out a breath and places the hat away, throwing off the pelt on his shoulders as well. He can feel the boy’s eyes on him now and he tries his very best not to look at him. He needs time to come in terms with this, or more so with the burning rage at the disgraceful acts of the mountain tribe.

“Are you upset?” the boy asks, his voice, as Hoseok predicted, deep and coming from the depths of his chest. Even though the young khan would love to say that he's not, he cannot lie.

“I am. I will accept this outcome of fate but this is not your place to be at. Even by the standards of your people, you are not property, nor a gift to be given to another man,” Hoseok sighs and takes a piece of the bread in front of him breaking pieces of it and throwing them in his mouth. He isn’t sure he could handle much more right now.

“As the shaman said, I am where I supposed to be. I was born to be this gift,” the boy says and Hoseok looks at him. The boy speaks confidently, the words coming from his young lips heavy to Hoseok’s ears. It confuses him to no end why has the tribe sent him a boy, when the tradition asked for a bride. Hoseok does not want a bride, his whole tradition unsettling him from the moment he learned of it. He doesn’t need a successor, he doesn’t need a child so it doesn’t matter much, however, he felt a sense of pride he had to upkeep for Changyun now who, perhaps, had lost a large part of it to be her. After all, he has become a part of his rather unfortunate fate. 

“You shouldn't say things like this,” Hoseok replies and looks at his people celebrating an even he now felt so odd about.

“I was born as a third child to our tribe leader. I cannot become the next leader, nor can I become someone of any importance at the tribe,” Changkyun speaks slowly and quietly, but his deep voice makes it audible enough. “My role was decided the second they laid their eyes on me. I had to become a gift. I had to become something - someone to be given to others as a sign of coexistence, a sign of peace and for our survival against all enemies,” he explains and Hoseok looks at him again. The boy has is eyes turned to the table, hands still in his lap neatly.

“I took the place of a daughter that should have lived before me, a twin sister I should have had. I took the place of a girl that never lived past her first day and now this is my burden to carry,” words heavier and heavier fall from Changkyun’s lips and Hoseok knows his mother hears them as well as she has turned to the boy. “I am at my place. Destiny and the great heaven above, the spirits of our ancestors brought me here,” the young khan sees the raw emotions in the soft brown eyes lined with the red and white paint and he can’t look away. 

“No matter the way I am by your side - I know it’s where I should be,” Changkyun finally looks at Hoseok and his eyes are breathtaking. Fires of the torches dance in them just like they did on the shaman during her dance and it’s mesmerizing.

“The ancestors have brought you here and even though I might take a while to come in terms with it, this is your place now,” he smiles and there is a chance on Changkyun’s face he can only describe as joy. He hands a loaf of bread to the boy and it takes him a second to look away from Hoseok’s face and take it. “This is your place now and these are your people,” Hoseok adds and both of them look at the mix of dancing figures to the loudly playing music and the cheers at the many long tables set in front of them.

“Thank you,” Changkyun whispers, this time it can be barely heard, and nibbles on the bread quietly. The shaman predicted change brought by him and deep down Hoseok believed it is true - that this boy has brought something new along with him. Hopefully, something good.


	2. The Nature

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Salkhi - wind in Mongolian  
> ** Gal - fire in Mongolian

Loud voices and moving steps awaken Changkyun. He is used to the complete silence of the mountain valleys - the high rock walls absorbing each sound in their timeless walls - so each noise is new to his ears. Slowly he blinks his eyes open, barely there light coming through the thick walls of the tent covered with colorful tapestry in deep reds and oranges from the inside. A beam of light shines in the middle of the space from the smoke hole in the roof, a shadow of the flag on top of the roof making its appearance once in a while on the fire pit. It is without a doubt a sunny day behind the walls.

Carefully, he sits up in the bed space - layers of pelts, blankets, and pillows on top of a simple wooden frame colored red standing just a bit higher than the ground. There is a small couch with intricate flower patterns painted on the wooden frame of bright red color across the room. A few blankets and few pillows are on top of it, thrown in a casual manner indicating someone has slept there. Right, the young khan had given his bed to Changkyun and taken the couch instead.

During the feast, when the light of the daw already colored the steppe on the East, the stress of the day won over Changkyun. He almost fell asleep at the table, even the ongoing music not being able to keep him awake. His shoulders still remembered the strong but careful grip of the khan’s hands to steady him. He knows the feast didn’t stop as they left as he could hear music while falling asleep on the soft covers of the bed. He didn’t have time to feel rude or weak - just endless waves of tiredness washed over him.

Cautiously he stands up from the bed and steps on the brightly colored patterned carpet that is placed next to it. His boots are standing next to the door, his wedding headwear placed on a small chest of drawers next to the couch, painted in same colors as the rest of the furniture. Between it and the bed stands a chair - wide and high - in deep wooden orange with the same patterns of flowers painted on it. The khan’s wedding coat hangs on its armrest - the blue contrasting with the orange. 

Looking up he sees the same patterns lightly drawn on the beams of the roof and all around the room - weaved into blankets and painted on the side of the cups on the chest of drawers. He had seen them before - on items the nomads traded with his tribe after their travels - but never in such large amounts and at one place. His eyes are drawn to each detail as it is all brand new for him, a voice suddenly speaking to him, surprising the young man.

“You’re finally awake,” says a kind female voice and Changkyun turns to the door. A woman of respectful age walks in, her stature not requiring her to bend down much to walk through the rather low door. She’s dressed for ChangKyun’s eyes unusually - wearing boots and riding pants like a man and a deep blue knee length, long sleeved saraffan on top, a belt with sashes tied around her middle. Her long black hair, with grey spots near hr temples, are hanging over her back in a thick braid with colorful ribbons at the end of it. The very way she moves condemns respect and the wisdom and kindness in her deep brown eyes as she looks at ChangKyun is hypnotizing. She carries a jug of water and a cloth in her hands and places them on a table near the door, where a larger bowl is already standing. Her smile is contagiously warm and it looks so much like the young khan’s it can be clearly seen that she is his mother. Yesterday, his mind being full of every single thought, he hadn’t paid enough attention to her.

“Wash up and come eat,” she says not waiting for a response and leaves as she came. Changkyun barely manages to bow to her and then he is left alone again. It is an odd amount of trust given to a stranger they met only a day ago, but it is a calming trust in a way. Perhaps the stories told to him by the elders of his tribe were wrong - how the nomads were rude and violent savages that terrorized the lands.

He pours some of the water in the bowl and thoroughly rubs his face, in a hope the pain that is layered on it would come off. His eyes were covered the most, so he pays even more attention to them. There is an irritating feeling of shame bubbling in the pit of his stomach as this is not the paint he should have carried, but he is too prideful to let it show. This is his burden to carry and to live with forever.

He leaves his wedding coat on the bed, remaining in his riding pants and the tunic that he is wearing underneath. He wishes he would have something to tie his hair back, but he does not dare to search for a ribbon in the tent. After putting his boots on he steps out of the delicately colored room, his eyes first dazzled by the sun. Between the mountain grooves, such bright sun is not common and his eyes ache for a second. He shields them with his hand and allows himself to look around.

Round tents are built in at least two rows on either side of a road that leads to the one Changkyun is standing in front of. From outside they all looked the same - the same size, the same grayish white color, flags fluttering in the wind on top of them. Some have smoke coming from their roofs, some have their doors open and some have them shut. To the left side of him is the field where the feast was held the night before. All tables but one are cleared, people sitting around a larger campfire with a pot slowly simmering on a barely there flame. Children of all ages run around the meadows, some bothering the goats that are grazing a bit further away and filling the air with cheerful laughter.

For his surprise, women walk alongside men. They clean their homes together, they herd the goats, they cook and even visually, both men and women look so similar. They are wearing longer saraffans while men opt for tunics and vests and their hair is braided while most men have them pulled back in ponytails or knots on the back of their head. But from afar, if given armor and a hat, one could not tell them apart.

“Changkyun,” he turns to his left a someone calls his name, “Come. Sit,” khan’s mother who is sitting next to the boiling pot says with an inviting smile and pats a seat on a log next to her. A bit timidly Changkyun walks over bowing slightly at the faces meeting him. Most of them had rosy cheeks from the steppen winds and skin in tone or two darker than Changkyun’s, the bright sun doing its job. This is all brand new for him, but he does not feel threatened or unwelcomed, even though he had assumed he would.

There are 3 women at the simmering pot now, including khan’s mother, and a man. The man is probably not much older than the khan, one of the women looking around the same age while the other two were older. It is obvious the man is injured, his leg bandaged from ankle till his knee but he still talks cheerfully unbothered by it. They all are holding bowls of what looked like boiled meat on the bone and some rice a the bottom of it. One such bowl is handed to Changkyun as well as he sits down.

“You didn’t eat much yesterday, so you must be hungry,” says the young woman who hands him the bowl and he can just bow his head in gratitude. For a second he observes how they all eat with their fingers before doing the same. It is a simple flavor of the goat with some salt, but it’s hearty and just a few bites bring warmth to Changkyun’s stomach and returns some of the energy he had lost. Many foods are rare amongst his tribe, their secluded way of living not giving many options so such a large portion of meat is a surprise but a pleasant one.

“Can I ask,” he dares to speak, making sure he is not chewing when he does when the woman serving all of them has taken a seat next to the man. All eyes turn to him and for a second he considers not to but goes with it anyway. “Where is the khan?” he asks cautiously, receiving a smile from the ruler's mother.

“He went hunting with some of the men earlier,” she replies calmly. “But he should return soon,” she adds before reaching towards Changkyun’s face. For a second he feels as if he should away avoid the contact but it is the most gentle touch that touches his skin as she rubs his cheek with her thumb. “You still have some paint on your face, my dear,” she says in a most affectionate voice as she places her bowl down and takes a cloth from behind her belt.

Her hand rests on Changkyun’s cheek and he can feel the roughness from the steppen winds and holding the leash of the horse, but it is a gentle and warm touch. Even though this rather first interaction makes him nervous, such closeness not common for his people, he does not have the inner strength to say it does not feel good. 

“Do you perhaps have a ribbon I could borrow? For my hair,” he asks as the woman pulls away done with rubbing the last remains of the paint of his cheeks and forehead. She looks around for a second before reaching for her thick, black braid that nearly reaches her waist and takes one of the three colorful ribbons that are tied at the end of it. “Oh. No, no, no. It’s fine,” Changkyun tries to stop her, the bowl in his hand stopping him to do so.

“Don’t be silly,” she stands up, wiping her hands in the cloth, and steps over the log to stand behind Changkyun. Her fingers thread through his hair, pulling it back skillfully. “You are my son’s spouse, so you are my child as much as he is,” she speaks words heavy with life experience behind them. “And a mother always takes care of her children, no matter who they are or how old they are,” she continues with an audible smile in her voice. It takes just a moment for Changkyun’s hair to be pulled back in a knot on top of his head, tied down with a green colored ribbon.

The khan’s mother sits back down and continues her meal in the most casual way possible. There is an aura of acceptance and care radiating from her and though his heart is still uneasy, Changkyun feels a lot calmer next to her. Perhaps the hatred his own mother felt against him made this small affection seem even more special than it is.

“Now why can’t you be this nice to me?” the man speaks up at the young woman next to him. “You always treat me harshly,” he pouts and the woman looks down at him, raising her eyebrows before turning back to her food. “See! You did it again!” he whines. “Even when I am hurt!” he pouts and the woman looks at him with furrowed brows.

“You stepped in your own bear trap, Jooheon. Do you want my pity for that? I did stitch you up,” she answers in a monotone voice, but there is a hint of warmth in it. However, their quarrel is not what catches Changkyun’s attention the most.

“Bears?” he asks, eyes wide and focused on the man. Both of his hands have grabbed to the bowl as he leans forward. “There are bears here?” he almost stammers and the man nods.

“They don’t wander out of the forest, but there are quite a few,” he says as he takes the barren part of the bone in his hand takes a large bite from the lean meat. “We need to be careful. If they smell the goats they will come out. So we set traps,” he explains. Changkyun gets so immersed in the fascinating existence of the large animals from which he has only seen skin, the horn echoing around the plains startle him, as so many things did today.

“The hunters are back. And so is the khan,” says the ruler’s mother and stands up. So does Changkyun, wiping his hands in the sides of his pants, and follows the woman through the rows of tents to a larger area with a wooden fence around it. As the woman walks closer to the returning hunters, Changkyun remains standing on the side completely frozen at the sight. Ten men approach the camp on huge animals Changkyun has ever seen only from a distance. His eyes grow wide as the so-called horses come closer and he even takes a step back. 

His eyes don’t know where to look - shining fur in tones of brown and black with long, wild manes giving the animals even more unbelievable look grabbing his attention. The riders, however, didn’t lose to their companions as well, each of them sitting on top of the animal with all possible dignity. They were not wearing armor - just simple shirts and vests - but the very look in their eyes made their presence commanding. They belonged high above the ground like this.

Changkyun’s eyes land on a man near the very front of the group. A large bird - an eagle by its looks, probably the size of Changkyun’s whole torso or even more, sat on his arm. His long claws dug into the layers of padding wrapped around the said arm, attentive eyes following each movement and locking at Changkyun for a second before the bird let out a loud scream. The man himself has a chiseled face, large and dark, piercing eyes but the second he locks them with khan’s mother the brightest sun-like smile appears on his features. The difference in the character allows ChangKyun’s eyes to the khan.

His horse is in deep orange-brown color and probably the biggest of them all. The rider himself sent out such aura and grace Changkyun’s mouth falls agape. He is wearing only black riding pants, boots and an open vest, nearly all of his torso exposed to the blinding sun. It reminded of the entities called gods, painted on vases travelers from the west brought along, yet there is something of even higher aesthetic wonder about him.

Changyun remembers seeing him for so many times before. Each year, when the nomad traders would pass through the mountains, he would be there as well. Since they both were just kids Changyun had always managed to catch him with his eyes and observe him growing. He was just a boy - just like Changkyun was back then - sitting on the back of his father's horse when he first saw him. It was a miraculous experience to see him year after year. Him passing by was even more exciting than all the goods the traders brought along and all Changkyun wanted to see for that moment was him - even if it was just afar. 

He saw the growth of a young man - his shoulders getting broader, his built bigger, his stance taller and the look in his eyes more determined. He remembers vividly the change a cycle ago when the long black ponytail he had had for years was suddenly gone, exchanged for the rather short cut he has now. Some people back then whispered that he was the new khan but Changkyun didn’t believe it until he saw the khan yesterday - waiting for him at the border between tribes. He was finally meeting someone he had admired from afar for so long, yet the shame he felt in that moment - as a gift, not a man - had made him freeze just like he is frozen now, looking at the man jumping off his horse.

The young khan smiles gently at his mother, his smile full of warmth and nothing less but love as he places his hands on the smaller woman’s shoulders. He says something Changkyun can’t hear and then turns to the man with the eagle, who stand next to him. The man is a bit taller than the khan but much slimmer, his eyes radiating the same warmth, same admiration yet the same sharpness as the eagles on his arm. He is the one who notices Changkyun standing on the side.

Once again something lost for Changkyun’s ears is said and both the khan and his mother turn to him. For a moment he has the instinct to run rushing through his veins, as the bird flaps its large wings on the man’s arm almost covering all sunlight that shone on the trio. However, the mother motions him to come closer with her palm and he can’t refuse this invite.

“You seem very surprised,” she says when he is close enough. His eyes first go to the large bird, then to the horses behind the khan’s back and only then they settle on the man himself, who has a curious and amused look on his face.

“Are you, perhaps, afraid of them?” he asks with an almost mischievous smile on his face and his eye gleam with joy. It is a mesmerizing look but in a very playful way, it’s also intimidating.

“I have never seen them this close,” Changkyun admits and as if understanding his words the eagle lets out a loud scream, making the man to take a step back. The trio holds back their laughter at the reaction, especially amused looks the man holding the eagle. For his surprise, the khan reaches out his hand out and though hesitating for a moment Changkyun takes it. He allows himself to be brought closer to the man with the bird and his hand to be brought up, his palm turned up. The eagle hunter reaches his hand in a satchel attached to his belt and pulls out small pieces of meat, placing them on Changkyun’s hand. 

The eagle look at the meat for a second before at first slowly leaning forward and then quickly jabbing at the offered food, his sharp beak just barely poking Changkyun’s palm. If not the khan’s hand holding his, he would have pulled away. It is clear the khan felt the attempted motion, the playful smile on his face as he places his other hand on top of Changkyun’s. 

“You will have to learn to live with them and cooperate with them. Here, where there is nothing but the blue sky above us and the green meadows around us, only nature can protect us from itself,” he says with a seemingly all-knowing kindness in his eyes. “I assume you haven’t ridden a horse before either?” he asks and Changyun nods, earning another smile from the man. There is something calming about it, not in the same way as his mother’s, but on a very deep level, he felt calmness rushing through him.

“I will go change and let Salkhi* rest,” the eagle hunter says and Changkyun has to look at his clothes to understand the reason. He is wearing a deep green jacket with embroidered collar and cuffs, a wide belt around his middle - not a common outfit for every day. “Each hunt is a celebration for me,” he explains and takes a small bow before walking off.

“Minhyuk is the only eagle hunter in our tribe and he holds his pride in it,” khan explains as the man walks away. “So each time he can show his trade is special to him,” he adds and turns his warm gaze back to Changkyun. “Come with me,” he says and bows to his mother who just smiles in return. Changkyun follows the example before going along with the khan.

He walks straight to the horses that are being de-saddled and at the sight of the mighty animals Changkyun slows down. The khan whistles briefly and the horse he had arrived on gallops to the edge of the fence. The horse’s head meets with the khan’s in an affectionate gesture Changkyun has seen only between humans and it fascinates him. The way the horse and the khan locks eyes is probably one of the most breathtaking sights in its simplicity. For a single second, it seems like only the khan and his horse exist, their connection on a different level.

“Come closer. Don’t be afraid,” the young ruler asks and once more reaches out his hand, which Changkyun doesn’t reject. He brings the scared man closer and gently places his hand on the horse's cheek. 

“Her name is Gal**. She can outrun a river and over jump the highest flames. She is by my side for half of my life and not once has she let me down,” he speaks fondly of the mare and lets go of Changkyun’s hand, leaving it on her warm cheek. Her fur has warmed up in the sun and it’s almost scolding to the touch, but it’s pleasant - it can’t be denied. There is a living energy coursing through her and into ChangKyun’s fingertips so intensely he almost gasps.

“My mother is not the only woman in my life whose approval you need,” he jokes and as if on queue the mare lets out a puff of air from her nose, shaking her head and Changkyun pulls away, taking a step back so quickly he stumbles and falls in the grass on his butt. The loudest laugh escapes the khan’s lips before he steps closer and once again offers his hand to Changkyun. “She seems to like you already,” he smiles so brightly Changkyun can’t feel hurt by the quite testing jokes he has experienced in just a few minutes.

The khan pulls him back on his feet holding onto his hands just for a second before letting go. “Did you finish your breakfast?” he asks casually and when Changkyun replies with a quiet, embarrassed ‘no’ he smiles his warm smile. “Then let’s go. I’ll take you for a ride later,” he adds and turns to walk toward his tent. He takes a few steps and then looks back at motionless ChangKyun. “Come one,” he encourages and the man follows him quickly.

The seats at the breakfast pot have changed. The khan’s mother has moved to sit next to the other older woman still there and the eagle hunter Minhyuk, now without his bird and in casual clothing just like everyone else, sat next to the injured man. A bowl twice as large as ChangKyun’s with portion twice as big as his is standing on the log next to ChangKyun’s seat. Without even questioning it the khan takes it and sits down on the log. For a second ChangKyun hesitates and then sits back down next to the man.

So close, even more than yesterday when they actually met for the first time, he feels small or even tiny next to the man. From afar ChangKyun had realized the man is big, but this is a shock to him. The broad shoulders and strong body, barely hidden by the leather vest, are a sight he didn’t often see amongst his people that being his main reasoning on why he is so fascinated by it. He barely realizes he is looking too attentively at the young khan, a quit giggle from the eagle hunter making him look away.

“Hmm?” the young khan hums with his mouth full of food as he looks at Minhyuk. The eagle hunter just shakes his head and picks at his meal, his eyes betraying the reason for his laugh and looking at ChangKyun. Of course, the khan has to look at ChangKyun too. The man who radiates such dignity and intimidating aura now seemed like a wild bunny with cheeks full of food. His eyes seem bigger, rounder and brighter as he chews on the meat and it’s as fascinating as his built if not even more.

“Eat up. You will need the energy,” he smiles with his stuffed cheeks and ChangKyun can’t control his face as he smiles back and nods, reaching for his bowl. This first morning is full of surprises around him - from the bright sunlight to the majestic horses - but nothing surprises him as much as the complex nature of the young khan. This new life before him promises to be an unforgettable experience and he is sure he will enjoy with such unique guide as the khan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter is here!  
> I am now thinking that this MAYBE will have more than 5 chapters because I want to take it really slow. But we shall see!  
> Tell me what you think and share the fic! :D


	3. The Place

It was an undeniable concern of ChangKyun’s that he won’t have a place with the nomads. Their way of life was foreign to him as were their customs. For most of his life he had heard horrifying stories of the wild nomads that cared for no one's lives - be it theirs or others. He had heard hundreds of tales of their viciousness on battlefields and their harsh way of life. Until a few days ago he had seen them only from afar and secretly only dreamt of the same freedom they possessed. Now, as he spent day after day with them, he felt like it truly was where he belonged and with whom he was supposed to be.

Day after day more and more people from the tribe came to talk to him and invited him along with their everyday tasks. He helped to carry firewood to the bigger campfires between the round tents every afternoon, which let him fully grasp the size of the camp and the count of people in it. To think all these people had chosen to travel through the lands for their whole lives was incredible, as incredible was the young khan who not only led his people but was near them whenever they needed.

The strength that was meant for a battlefield oozed out of his aura with each step he took but at the same time, his nature was gentle and kind. The khan was a sight one could marvel at any moment and many did, not ChangKyun alone. When he was cutting the firewood - sharpened ax cutting the air with such precision each log split into parts as if cut by a divine knife - it was a spectacle that left ChangKyun speechless. His daily vest was hanging on a branch further away and his remarkable physique on full display with each muscle tensed and glistening in the rays of the sun - this was how the gods of the people from the west looked, without a doubt.

The strength of a warrior melted away and turned into the sweetest smile as young boy shyly walked towards him, handing him a bag of water. The khan ruffled the boy's hair, thanking him, and it seemed that the boy was the happiest person at that moment, his own face blooming into a smile as he rushed away. He ran giggling to his friends, through a small group of young women, all observing the sight as well. Their eyes were on the khan and they met with ChangKyun’s. Their smiles seemed oddly all-knowing as they bowed and left and it left ChangKyun confused.

He felt the khan’s eyes on himself as he went to pick up the firewood from the ground and he knew the feeling well as if the khan’s eyes followed him everywhere. It wasn’t a scary or threatening feeling, but rather ensuring and safe one - as if he looked after him while he truly found his place in the community. When Changkyun had to carry water from the river back to the camp and his legs wobbling on the uneven road, the khan was suddenly next to him taking one of the buckets from his hand. When dragging the larger logs to the cutting place seemed too hard he was right there, lifting them up as if they were feather light - he was always nearby but it still seemed that he was far away.

Even though understandable, it was still odd to have the khan sleep on the couch rather than in his bed. He was a large man and it definitely wasn’t comfortable for him, but he refused to change places with ChangKyun. None of them mentioned sharing the bed, the possibility in the air but not spoken in words. It wouldn’t mean much but at the same time it would - it would be a new a level of trust ChangKyun perhaps missed. He had no right to expect it, but he felt that he could do more to gain it.

It is another sunny morning, the heaven blessing the meadows with good weather for now 16 days in a row, some of the older people from the tribe joking ChangKyun has brought the sun to the steppe. The day promises to be warm and before it heats up some of the men along with the eagle hunter, once more in his best attire, and the khan has gone hunting. Waiting for their return some of the women and men gather around the pot near the khan’s tent, preparing to cook. It is a rather momentary decision but ChangKyun goes with it.

“Can I cook today?” he asks and has all eyes on him. “I can make something we will be able to eat tomorrow too,” he adds. There is just a second of silence until an older woman, currently standing at the pot, smiles and turns to him.

“What will you need, dear?” she asks and for a second ChangKyun is lost before he lists the ingredients. Water, rice, meat both lean and fatty, onions, garlic, spices, and some berries - it’s all he needs and as the ingredients arrive one by one more and more people slowly come to the site. It feels excessive - to observe him like this - but ChangKyun understands why.

He starts by chopping the fattier meat in larger chunks and placing in the large pot above the fire. The fat chirps on the hot metal sending of the scent of meat in the air. He quickly shops up the lean meat, the garlic and the onions dropping them in the pot and sprinkling them with salt. With a large spoon, he mixes the meat so it wouldn’t burn and patiently endures the heat until it’s brown. The rice follows next, first mixed with the meat and the juices from it before preparing the spices.

“Do you have a mortar?” he asks as he pours water in the pot, just so it would barely cover the rice. It is a matter of a second until the same boy, who always made sure to carry water to the khan, would appear with a mortar and pestle - both looking huge in his hands. “Thank you,” Changkyun smiles and gently pats the boys head and for his surprise, he seems as joyful after his touch as after the khan’s.

Rapidly ChangKyun throws handfuls of the long cumin seeds, the rounded coriander seeds, dark grains of pepper and berries in the mortar, grinding them all together. He pours the mixture in the pot, mixing it all together and giving the slowly disappearing liquid and the rice a new color. He put the dried chili peppers in the mortar as well, grinding it finely before adding the red powder to the pot too. A new set of scents swirl through the air as he mixes the large pot with all his strength, adding salt and distributing the browned meat and the spices equally between the grains of rice.

The pot is larger than the one at his home tribe, he took that in account when putting in ingredients in, but he never thought mixing it would be that difficult. He does his best not to show the struggle, but a pair of hand join the handle of the large spoon. The man who stepped into his own bear trap - Jooheon - has limped to the pot, his leg healing slowly but successfully. 

“Just ask when you struggle. We are your people now,” he smiles with dimples showing in his cheeks and ChangKyun nods. Together they manage to mix the pot and ChangKyun places a lid on it, leaving it to simmer for a while. He lets out a satisfied sigh and hopes it will be taken well and they won’t find it as wasted produce.

“It already smells amazing,” Jooheon says as he sits back down in is the usual spot. “We make something similar once in a while when get fresh vegetables, but this is interesting,” he adds with a nod. There is a short moment of silence before he speaks again, the people slowly leaving to their daily tasks to probably return later when the meal is ready. “How do you like it here with us?”

“I… like it here a lot,” ChangKyun admits and looks around the camp. “It’s very different, but I like it,” he nods to himself and looks to Jooheon who is smiling proudly.

“Good to hear. We are like the wind out here - takes time to get used to us,” he says and Changkyun has to admit he got used to both the people and the wind faster than he thought he would. This truly felt like his place.

It is a comfortable silence with softly bubbling pot and distant voices and it feels wonderful. It is not the dead silence between the mountain walls and that makes it more calming. It does not require one to stay so quiet they are afraid to breathe as even the sound of each exhale is swallowed up by the rock walls. Here each inhale and exhale as if matched the breathing of the wind and created the softest sound around the whole camp.

As if on queue when ChangKyun stands up to check on his creation the horn announcing the hunters return vibrates through the air. It would be appropriate for him to go and greet the returning hunters, but his whole focus is on the large pot. He slowly stirs the rice, making sure it does not burn at the bottom and tastes the grains. To his relief, the taste is exactly what he wants and he can’t help but smile. The grains are soft but still have a bite to them, each spice giving them a different color and taste to their usual self and magic has happened in the pot.

“Something smells delicious,” Minhyuk’s voice rings as he approaches the dining spot. Salkhi is sitting on his arm, carefully observing the surroundings and turning her head at the sounds and smells around. The other hunters, including the khan, followed him and sat around the pot, their deep voices not breaking the calming silence but rather filling it.

“ChangKyun cooked today,” Jooheon is quick to point out and there is a loud ‘ooohhh’ from Minhyuk who has let Salhki sit on the edge of the log and places a handful of meat chunks in front of her. The others seem to be impressed too but ChangKyun’s eyes travel to the khan who looks at him with his clear brown eyes and ChangKyun has to look away. 

“So, will you feed us today, spouse of the khan?” a larger man with full lips and broad shoulders asks and Minhyuk is the one who gently elbows him.

“He will, Hyunwoo, but you are not the first in line no matter how hungry you are,” he says and the men laugh. “Though you are always hungry. How does your wife handle you?” he asks teasingly and the larger man has red in his cheeks.

“She’s a great woman,” he smiles shyly and gets light pats on the back from the other men as well, all of them in a good mood, teasing Hyunwoo. Even the khan is smiling at the banter. ChangKyun is so distracted by the soft look on the khan’s face he is slightly startled by an older woman standing next to him with bowls in her hand.

“Let’s feed them,” she says and Changkyun nods. He takes the first bowl, which is the largest of them all and he knows to whom it belongs immediately. He fills it to the brim with the still steaming plov and hands it to the khan. 

“Thank you,” are the two simplest words to hear but it means a lot to hear them from the khan, ChangKyun has to admit it. He bows his head slightly and continues filling bowls and giving them to the men around the pot and those who have returned from earlier to taste his creation. A loud hum makes his head turn and it’s no one else but the khan, with his eyes closed, cheeks full of food, swaying slightly as he chews.

“This is so good,” he murmurs and the are hums of approval from the men around the campfire. ChangKyun finally lets out a big breath of relief he did not now he was holding in and keeps handing out the plov. The pot is halfway through, pleased humming heard here and there when a bowl from an unexpected side is pushed in front of ChangKyun. He looks first at the rather large bowl and then at the khan standing next to him. There is a grain of rice stuck to the corner of his mouth, his eyes big and shining as he looks at ChangKyun with the most endearing expression on his face. 

“Could I have some more,” he asks and it immediately warms ChangKyun heart. He whispers a quiet 'of course' and fills the bowl again. His eyes follow how the khan, the ruler of all these people, sits back in his place with a big grin on his face and downs spoon after spoon of the food served to him. 

Two more bowls appear near Changkyun - one belonging Hyunwoo and one to the always present boy. With a smile, he serves both of them before finally filling his own bowl and sitting next to the khan. He must admit he could make the plov even better, but this is good enough and with all the praises he can’t tell himself that it’s bad as it clearly isn’t.

A couple of girls walk around and hand out tea, collecting the empty bowls and a new set of silence settles in the camp after lunch. Minhyuk excuses himself from the circle to change, taking his eagle with him. Hyunwoo leaves next, helping Jooheon to get up and walk towards his tent as well. Slowly, more and more hunters leave their seats until only the khan and ChangKyun are left. 

“Thank you for the meal,” the khan says and ChangKyun bows slightly. “I’m glad to see you feel comfortable here,” he adds and he bespoken looks at the khan. There is such warmth and kindness in his eyes ChangKyun’s breath gets taken away from him for a second. 

“It’s because you keep looking after me,” he replies and tries to look away from the brown eyes in front of him but he fails. “I have noticed, that you are around a lot. Perhaps I am just imagining it,” he admits but the gentle expression on the khan’s face does not disappear. It becomes more complete with a smile as he looks away.

“I have to make sure my spouse is feeling well,” he says and then turns back to ChangKyun. Something about his expression is a bit different than before but in a good way and ChangKyun feels a pull on his heart. It is an unexplainable itch in his hands to reach them up and take the soft face with sharpest features in his hands to make sure it is actually before him, the gentle gaze looking at him and no one else. His fingers twitch in his lap and he can’t seem to push a single word pass his lips, the gaze hypnotizing him. What brakes the moment is a pair of small hands suddenly grabbing his.

“Are you big brother’s wifey?” a small girl asks with a cute lisp in her voice, her changing teeth making her speech cute. She’s wearing a long brown sarafan almost to the edge of her small black boots with embroidered neckline and sleeves, two thick, black braid on either side of her small chubby face. For a second Changkyun is completely lost but a small giggle from the khan shakes him out of it.

“I guess that’s how you could call me,” he tries to smile. There is no need and no point to explain to a small child the reality.

“Why have you never worn pretty wifey clothes? Even when we all danced you didn’t,” the girl pouts referring to the wedding feast and shakes her little hands just barely moving ChangKyun’s along.

“I… I don’t have any?” ChangKyun tries to think of a decent response, but the little girl just pouts harder and turns to the khan. The latter has covered his mouth with his hand and it is clear he is doing his best to hold in laughter.

“Big brother, why haven’t you bought him pretty clothes?” she pouts so hard her eyebrows knit together and lines appear on her forehead. 

“We haven’t been in any city. I will when we go there,” the khan speaks just barely holding back his laughter. The answer seems not good enough for the little girl as she doesn’t stop pouting and instead starts pulling ChangKyun somewhere.

“Big brother is a meany. We will show him you need pretty clothes,” she speaks very seriously and pulls on ChangKyun’s hand until he gives in and follows her. She pulls him towards a nearby tent and leaves him outside as she goes in. In confusion Changkyun turns to the khan, whose shoulders are shaking in laughter, his hand in front of his mouth in a failed attempt to hold the laugh back.

The little girl returns, struggling with a wooden chair which ChangKyun takes from her as soon as she appears in the doors. “Sit,” the girl instructs and even though he is still confused he does as he is said, sitting on the chair outside of the tent. “Mommy, where is your pretty hat?” the girl speaks to someone in the tent and ChangKyun panics, turning to the khan again to find Minhyuk next to him, both of them talking. For now, he had to accept the forced makeover.

 

“You do really like him,” Minhyuk says as he sits down next to Hoseok. The later turns away from the spectacle that suddenly features a chair and his laughter dies out, the tone of the upcoming conversation obviously serious.

“There isn't a thing to not like about him,” he replies and looks at back at Changkyun who is now surrounded by the little girl, her older sister, and mother as all three of them struggled to put something on his head.

“You know well enough that is not what I meant. Your heart likes him. I can see that in your eyes,” the eagle hunter elaborates and Hoseok decides to remain silent. With his sharp friend around each word he said could be turned against him in seconds. 

“I will assume I am right because you are not trying to fight back,” the man sounds almost triumphant and it proves that silence around him can be as harmful as words. “You know that it’s only right to feel like that, right?” he continues and the khan turns to him with a raised eyebrow.

“I am serious. The spirits of our ancestors have sent him to you with a reason and if your heart is accepting him already, don’t push this feeling away,” Minhyuk looks at the ongoing transformation and so does Hoseok. A traditional celebratory headwear is secured on Changkyun’s head. Red and blue beads, shining metal discs and bright ribbons framing his face - shorter on the forehead and longer along the sides - making his face look dainty and royal. 

“Pretty, pretty, pretty,” the little girl cheers and jumps around the seated man, who looks more confused than ever but as soon as the girl's mother carries a mirror from the tent his face changes to disbelief.

“Beautiful,” Hoseok whispers under his breath and his eyes meet with ChangKyun’s across the grassy lane. It is almost as if Changyun heard him, even though he definitely didn’t, and his eyes sparkle just like on the wedding evening with the flames from the campfire dancing in them, now replaced by the rays of the sun. There is something mesmerizing about him, without a doubt.

“Don’t be a fool and hide this feeling,” Minhyuk whispers so only Hoseok would hear. “Because trust me when I say - my eyes see how he looks at you. His heart is about to burst along the seams if you will keep the distance you don’t want to keep yourself,” he stands up and is about to leave but stops and places his hand on Hoseok’s shoulder. “And stop sleeping on the couch. You have a bed,” he smiles and walks away.

As soon as the eagle hunter leaves, the little girl runs to Hoseok and grabs his hand. “You didn’t wear the pretty hat either,” she says and pulls him along. Another chair has been placed next ChangKyun and the bossy little girl just points at it and Hoseok sits down, holding back another set of laughter.

He looks at the man next to him, his eyes catching the glimpse of red in his cheeks. His eyes follow the roundness of his cheeks, the shadows his long eyelashes throw on them, the tall bridge of his nose and how his tongue darts out over his soft pink lips. There is something dainty about him, but even like this Hoseok can feel deep strength coursing through the man’s veins hidden underneath layers of unknown. 

“Pretty hat,” the little girl is back along with her mother, carrying the traditional wedding headwear with the pointed top in bright colors and ribbons at the back of it.

“I apologize,” the mother bows slightly but Hoseok just shakes his head and lowers it so the hat could be placed on properly. The little girl keeps cheering how pretty they look and a brighter hint of pink settles on ChangKyun’s cheeks. To reassure the probably embarrassed man    
Hoseok reaches out his left hand, offering it to ChangKyun. The latter looks at it for a second before placing his right in it. Since the first time he held the man's hand, it feels very right, like it belongs in Hoseok’s and it is the oddest sensation.

“Do we need to prepare another wedding feast?” a familiar voice asks and Hoseok stands up immediately, pulling ChangKyun along instead of letting go of his hand, to greet his mother. “I should have known about this faster to prepare something,” she jokes and stands in front of them. “How beautiful you both look,” she smiles and one of her hands settles on Hoseok’s cheek while other - on ChangKyun’s. 

“I’m no shaman but this second wedding of yours is blessed by me,” she smiles before pulling her hands back. “My heart is happy,” she adds. “Continue taking good care of each other. I will now head to grandmothers tent,” she bows her head and the two men bow in return watching as she leaves. 

“We should probably return the headwear,” the khan says with a small laugh only now noticing he is still holding ChangKyun’s hand. It’s a second of hesitation but he let’s go of it. The little girl tries to protest, claiming both of them look too pretty, but her mother talks sense into her. In a moment they are freed from the heavy hats and as the women from the tent carry their items back in they slowly make their way to the khan’s tent side by side.

The day is slowly nearing its end, the sun setting behind the mountains coloring them in colors of fire, and the whole campsite sinks into a pleasant golden light. The inside of the tent colors in the same deep honey color and even though no fire is lit it feels warm.

For a second Hoseok looks at his bed space for the past days and then at ChangKyun who is bringing some order into the blankets and pillows on the bed. He remembers Minhyuk’s words as vividly as he felt Changkyun’s hand in his moments ago. There is a tug in his chest and as if pulled by it he walks to the couch and takes the pillow and blankets, taking them to the bed.

“Will you mind if I come to sleep here?” he asks and ChangKyun immediately looks at him. His eyes seem endless and lost at the same time until he blinks rapidly a few times. 

“Of course. This is your bed after all,” he says with a strange tone in his voice and starts reaching for the pillow and the blanket. For a second Hoseok is lost on what the man is doing until he understands he is about to move to the couch instead.

“You don’t have to go anywhere,” he stops the man by taking his hand in his, letting the bedding drop from his hands. “We can both remain here. It’s big enough,” he says his eyes locking with ChangKyun’s. “Unless it would make you uncomfortable,” he realizes and lets go of the hand he had taken in rush.

ChangKyun shakes his head. “I’m not uncomfortable. If you don’t mind me staying here…”

“I don’t. I don’t mind at all,” Hoseok interrupts him and there is that soft tint of pink on the man’s cheeks again. There is a silence settling in the tent and they both quietly put the dropped blankets and pillows where they belong. This silence carries a weight with it, a weight that can’t be solved with few words now but will disappear with time.

 

“I will go to a tribal elder meeting, but feel free to sleep whenever you want,” the khan says and ChangKyun just nods, feeling of awkwardness between them evident. Only when the khan leaves ChangKyun takes the first proper breath. The distance he disliked so heartfeltly is starting to disappear but he has no idea what lies behind it and he could find out only by waiting. It sets a fire of unknown in his heart but it also makes him even more curious about what will each day next to khan bring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An update a day early, as I will be busy.  
> How are you liking this so far? I am really curious, so don't be shy - drop a comment! Let's chat! :D


	4. The Morning

Once more ChangKyun awakens from overwhelming warmth. His body is slowly growing accustomed to it, but it still feels foreign and even though pleasant he can’t help but wake up when it becomes too much. He opens his eyes, the light of slowly rising dawn shining through the smoke opening and sinking the room in warm twilight. His eyes take a moment to focus until he realizes he has once more moved closer to the khan sleeping next to him.

Since the very first night, they have started to share a bed he wakes up near the dawn from the warmth radiating from the khan. He himself has moved closer to the sleeping man as if his body longed for the energy the man radiated. A few times he has found himself loosely in the embrace of the man and even though it has always felt right and safe, he always moves out of it. He doesn’t feel like he entirely belongs there like he doesn’t have the right to be there.

This morning he remains still in the man’s arms for a second. Just for a moment, he makes himself believe this is right but no longer than a moment. He moves out of the loose embrace, fixing the blanket over the bare body, his fingers itching to run through the thick black hair, over the arched brows and round cheeks, but he doesn’t. Instead, he puts on his clothes - a pair of riding pants and a shirt a seamstress here has made - and walks out without putting on his boots.

The dew on the grass sends a chill through him from his bare feet up to his shoulders and he exhales deeply, a puff of air in a form of barely-there white smoke escapes. The camp is still asleep, apart from the men guarding fire here and there amongst the round tents, and not a single sound made by man breaks through the silence. Only nature is allowed to create her melody with distant songs of the birds, horses, and goats ‘talking’ just outside the camp. This is not a land a man controls, but a land he learns to live in. This much ChangKyun has understood very well.

Slowly he makes his way through the camp. He greets the guards of the fire and walks to the pinfold for the horses. For the past few mornings he has gathered enough courage to walk to the large animal, knowing well enough he will have to get on one at some point to move along with the nomads. He could ask for help or guidance but the stubbornness of an immovable mountain wall is a part of his nature, no mature how much he appreciates help from those he could now call his people.

As the sun begins to rise slowly, the horses seem to be fully awake, some strolling around the pinfold, some standing in groups inside the fence. As soon as ChangKyun comes closer one particular horse immediately walks to the edge of the fence. “Good morning, Gal,” he says softly as he reaches the mare. He places his hands on her warm cheeks and lets out a breath as the mare lets the weight of her head rest in his hold. 

It fascinates him to no end on how she recognized him since the first morning he has started to come here. It is as if she knows he is in a way special or perhaps means something to her master or rather her companion. Just like the khan, she radiates welcoming warmth but possesses the same intense, almost regal aura and even though it commands the respect it also welcomes one closer. 

Slowly, ChangKyun rests his forehead against the mare’s, the horse just lightly headbutting him as if requesting him to properly commit to the act. With a smile he takes one step closer, his one hand remaining on Gal’s face while the other gently pets her neck. He warmth is the second most welcoming, most calming sensation he has ever felt and he allows his eyes to fall shut for a second.

“Should I be jealous? If yes - of whom?” a voice calls ChangKyun back in reality and led by an instinct he turns quickly on his feet and almost hides behind the horse. It’s no one else but the young khan standing just a few steps away from him in nothing more but his deep brown riding pants - bare feet on the cold grass, arms crossed on his bare chest. With the sun slowly rising behind him he once more looked more like a king from myths than a real man and ChangKyun took the given chance of hiding his face behind Gal. The admiration he feels for the khan lately has started to create an ache in his chest which grew only bigger with each look at the man, each morning he felt his warmth too close and ChangKyun couldn’t explain it.

“So this is where you have been disappearing to each morning,” the khan smiles and walks closer. His hand settles on Gal’s face on the other side and all that separates him from ChangKyun now is the mare. From the corner of his eyes, ChangKyun sees the affectionate look the khan gives to his horse, stroking her neck and ruffling her mane. What grabs him by surprise is that the look doesn’t change when the khan looks at him. It’s nothing more but the warmest gaze coming from the softest brown eyes but it feels like it means a lot more.

“I promised you a ride, didn’t I?” the khan suddenly asks and even before ChangKyun fully grasps it, he unties and lowers the top log of the fence, letting Gal to gracefully step outside of the pinfold before putting the fence back together. The wall between them has disappeared and the sudden turn of events has made ChangKyun unable to act or speak and he just observes.

The khan runs his hands over the mane’s back, smoothing her fur, before ruffling her mane once more. He grabs a handful of the rough hair right above the withers and before ChangKyun’s eyes can even register it fully he jumps up from the ground, swinging his leg over the horse’s back and grabbing onto the withers in the process to fully pull himself on top. He once more looks like that distant giant ChangKyun remembers seeing only from afar so he doesn’t even notice how a hand extends in front of him.

“Come one,” the khan says and as ChangKyun looks up there is a sting in his chest so strong he almost gasps out loud. This is like a dream from the days he spent crammed between rocks and cliffs, where all he wished was for the nomads to stop, offer their hand and take him away. He has to blink his eyes a few times to control the rising emotions in his chest before he takes the offered hand and kicks off the ground just enough to let himself be pulled on the horse.

He is seated in front of the khan, his hands firmly but still gently gripping on Gal’s mane, and he can feel incredible energy coursing through him. His body shakes involuntarily when the khan clicks with his tongue a few times and the horse begins to move. His hands are on either side of ChangKyun just barely holding onto the mane and Changyun has no clue how the man is guiding the horse but the movement forward is smooth as if the rider and the horse had the same mind. They definitely radiated the same heat.

The horse below him moved slowly and gracefully her warmth wrapping around ChangKyun and reassuring him while the same warmth the khan has does the same thing. Changkyun is between two breathtaking sources of regal energy and his body can’t help but shiver, especially as with each passing moment, he feels the khan behind his back more and more. His mind and chest can’t keep calm and as he dares to look away from his own hands holding on to the horse, he allows himself to speak.

“I have always wished for this,” he admits as he looks at the sun that is rising and coloring the tips of the trees and the mountains that were once his home in bright amber light. “Since I first saw nomads from afar I wished to be taken away by them,” he admits, not revealing that the young khan even then was the one he wished to be taken away by. There is just a small moment of silence before the khan speaks.

“How so?” he asks as he guides the horse over the meadow and along the forest, moving towards the river. It feels like it’s just the three of them in the whole steppe and no sensation has ever compared to this.

“Because the nomads are free. I have never been free,” ChangKyun admits and looks down at his hands again and the khan’s hands right next to his. His look delicate, despite the rough environment of the rocks and dust, while the khan’s look rough and gone through heavy work yet they seem to hide the gentlest touch. ChangKyun knew they do.

“You are the son of the mountain people’s leader, doesn’t that give you freedom?” the khan asks and turns Gal to slowly stroll alongside the river. The water and the mare’s slow steps are the only two sounds around them.

“I told of my twin sister,” ChangKyun now speaks quietly, his heart heavy. The khan replies almost as quietly that he did and gives time for ChangKyun to continue. “My mother saw me as a cursed child as no one expected me to be born. She claimed I took away her daughter’s life till the very moment I got taken to meet you,” he explains and as if knowingly a breeze of wind swirls around them.

“When you are cursed, you are not free,” he says sadly, his hands letting go of the mane to softly pet the mare. “The cursed ones are maintained to be used,” he adds and the horse stops. For his surprise, the khan’s hand reaches for his chin and gently turn his head so their eyes could meet - his touch as gentle as ChangKyun imagined. The khan almost looks upset but not with ChangKyun, so much the latter knows.

“You are not cursed. If anything, you are a gift,” the khan speaks and the longer he looks at ChangKyun the calmer his expressions become. “And here you are free,” he says and lets his hand fall from ChangKyun’s face. “As free as a nomad can be,” he adds and his gaze turns to the distance with a smile and the horse begins to move again.

“And how free is that?” ChangKyun asks, his gaze absentmindedly focusing on the endless fields on the other side of the river.

“I could pack all I truly need on the back of Gal and ride to the end of the steppe and back - go wherever I want,” he says almost as if he is dreaming of such option.

“But?” ChangKyun knows there is a but, everything always had a ’but’.

“I am the khan. I can’t,” the man says with an almost sad smile on his face which Changkyun grabs a glimpse off as he looks back.

“If you could… what would happen with me?” he dares to ask. He hears an inhale signifying an answer but he doesn’t get to say a thing when a wild fox breezes over the field from the nearby bush, chasing after a hare. Gal moves back with such force it almost throws ChangKyun off, if not a strong arm wrapping around his middle and pulling his back against a sturdy chest.

“Woah, woah, woah,” the khan tries to calm down the mare and her surprised stomping ends with few more taps of the hoof. “Are you alright?” the khan asks and ChangKyun can feel his breath on the back of his head, his chest getting tight once more.

“I’m fine,” he says as he places his hands on the khan’s arms still around his middle, signifying it could be taken off, but instead his hands betray him and cling onto khan.

“To answer your question,” the khan says rather quietly, his breathing rapid - ChangKyun can feel it from the rising and falling of his chest. “If I could take all I need and go,” he speaks slowly, as if still thinking of his answer, “I would take you with me,” he says and ChangKyun quite possibly grabs onto his hand even stronger.

It’s a short moment of their breathes syncing and hearts calming down before the khan lets go. “We should probably return,” he says with a deep exhale and as ChangKyun nods he turns Gal around and speeds her up to reach the camp faster. It is a quiet ride back and much faster than when they left. It seems rushed but at the same time, the pace seems just right, matching their rapidly beating hearts.

As soon as they arrive at the camp the khan jumps off the horse first. It is almost a reflex as he turns to ChangKyun immediately and reaches his hands out. There is very little hesitation as the man takes them and jumps off the horse as well. 

“Thank you, khan,” ChangKyun says as his hands are still resting in the khan’s, his eyes focused on them.

“Hoseok,” the young khan says and ChangKyun has to look up. “Call me by my name - Hoseok,” he adds with a smile and it seems that now when there is yet again a small distance between them, they can breathe more freely and be calmer. The closer they got the faster their hearts were beating and the tighter their chest got as if the closeness is too much and not enough at the same time.

“Thank you, Hoseok,” ChangKyun lets the word roll over his lips and it feels so different, but in a good way, to refer to the khan like that. It felt right and the warmth pulsating between their joined hands only confirming that. Their hands belonged together - to be entwined like this and no words are needed to confirm that.

 

~

 

A loud cough grabs hold of ChangKyun’s throat and he has to turn away from the pot he is stirring. He hides his face against his arm, lifting it to his face, and lets the mixing spoon to remain in  Jooheon’s, who is helping him, hands. The cough has possessed his chest already for several days, the herbal teas the shaman has given to him not helping much. This morning he awoke rolled far away from Hoseok, even though for so many mornings he has found himself closer and closer to the man. His body felt hot and as if avoiding the warmth from the sleeping man he had moved away in his sleep. 

Waves of hot and cold shivers attack his body, his head dizzy and he seems to be unable to keep focus. The cough seems to affect him in ways he can’t understand and by the worried faces around him, he knows that no one else around him knows what is going on either. He has been sick before while living in the mountains, but never to this extent when his own body has no idea what is going on.

“I need to sit down for a moment,” he says with a shaky exhale, his chest aching and throat burning from the sudden cough attack. Since the cough started Hoseok had been near him as much as he could - making sure ChangKyun is taking his medicine. His warm eyes read concern, but this morning he has gone out hunting again and ChangKyun almost wishes he would have stayed. Yet ChangKyun himself encouraged him to go. 

“Are you alright?” Jooheon asks as he limps closer. “Perhaps you need to go lay down,” he adds and ChangKyun shakes his head, regretting this decision as the dizziness gets stronger. This is his stubbornness taking over once more. He fears showing any weakness and decides to suffer through pain instead. For years he had been thought that showing weakness meant losing respect and now when he truly felt he has gained it amongst the nomads he can’t throw it away. ChangKyun is about to stand up, but his head is spinning and he almost falls before managing to sit back down.

“If you are not going to sleep then at least sit calmly,” Jooheon insists with a concerned look on his face and looks at one of the women standing near the campfire. He uses a language ChangKyun can’t understand, or perhaps he can no longer hear, but the girls rush away immediately. She returns a moment later, another woman following him but ChangKyun’s vision gets blurry and he can’t really recognize her until the khan’s mother is right before him.

“My darling, what’s wrong?” she asks gently cupping his cheeks with her rough hands. “You are burning hot,” she exclaims and places her hand on his forehead. “Where does it hurt?” she asks another question, her motherly eye something ChangKyun can’t trick.

“My chest,” he admits, “and my head,” as he says it another set of cough breaks from his lips and he turns to the side, hiding his face against his arm again. The khan’s mother gently rubs his back until the cough ends and then cups his face again. 

“This is not good. Not at all. You need to lay down and remain still,” she speaks gently, her thumbs rubbing his cheeks and it’s a calming action that almost takes away a bit of the pain that has settled in ChangKyun’s chest. However, he still remains stubborn.

“It’s not that bad,” he says even though it is an evident lie. His body shivers, a new wave of hot and cold washing over him, as the loud horn of returning hunters shakes the air. 

“Finally,” the khan’s mother sighs and looks at the girl that brought her here. “Get him here, quickly,” she instructs and the girl rushes away once more. “You might not listen to me, but you will listen to him,” she says with a sad smile, her palm resting on ChangKyun’s forehead once more. More and more sets of shivers go through him and he can barely keep himself from physically shivering as much as his body would want to. Since the morning each passing second made it worse.

“What’s wrong?” the khan’s voice vibrates in the air as he obviously rushes towards the campfire. “What has happened?” he asks and as soon as his eyes lock on his mother in front of ChangKyun he is next to her in seconds, kneeling on the ground in front of ChangKyun.

“He’s sick but stubbornly doesn’t want to lay down,” she replies in a serious voice. “Please, talk sense into him,” she pleads with genuine concern in her tone and takes a step aside so the khan could be right in front of ChangKyun. His hands are the ones that now settle on ChangKyun’s cheeks - the gentlest touch coming from the rough, hot hands - and the latter’s chest tightens, knowing how weak and miserable he must look. He admittedly feels shame about his weakness but he can’t help letting the weight of his buzzing head to rest in Hoseok’s hands.

“Let’s go. You need to lay down and wait until the shaman returns from collecting herbs,” Hoseok talks calmly, but his voice has even more layers of concerns than his mother. “If you waited for me to return - I am so sorry I made you wait this long,” he raises one of his hands to pet ChangKyun’s head. “Please, let’s go,” he asks, or even morse so - pleads - and even though ChangKyun’s pride is broken, through his fogged eyes he can see the almost desperate look in Hoseok’s eyes. He nods, his mouth not listening to him, and slowly starts standing up. However, just like before he is too dizzy to stand on his own feet. Everything spins and he falls forward, shocked gasps ringing in his ears and if not the khan he would have probably fallen face first on the ground.

There are no words spoken, the khan’s concerned eyes looking down at the man he barely caught against his chest saying it all. Swiftly he lifts the man in his arms as if he weighs nothing and carries him straight to his tent. The usually pleasant warmth ChangKyun had is turned to incomprehensible heat that almost burns to the touch but Hoseok holds him closer as they walk. Even if the man he was holding would be on actual flames he would take a hold of him. Already a while ago he has promised that to himself.

The khan’s mother rushes in front of him to open the door of the tent and let both men in. Gently, Hoseok places the shivering man on the bed, his mother quickly pulling off the heavy boots off his feet, before they wrap him in blankets. The shivering does not stop and perhaps even grow in strength and his glassy eyes from the fever seem to look at nothing until they can focus on Hoseok.

“You will remain with him, am I right?” the khan’s mother asks and her son simply nods. His whole attention is turned to the man who is looking at him almost desperately, silently pleading for relief Hoseok couldn’t give him. She doesn’t say a word more and leaves, for now, knowing well enough Hoseok is capable of taking care of his spouse himself for now. Her tasks are to find the shaman as fast as possible.

The khan fixes the blanket on ChangKyun’s shoulders and gently pets his head, reassuring the man he will be right back, before walking to the washing bowl. He pours fresh water in it from the jug next to it and takes a cloth standing nearby with him. Hoseok sits on the floor next to the bed, dips the cloth in the cool water, strains the excess water and gently pats the half asleep man's forehead before leaving the cooling cloth on it.

“I am sorry,” ChangKyun says quietly and Hoseok can just shake his head. His hand softly rests on ChangKyun’s cheek, his thumb running over the smooth skin as he looks in the glassy eyes looking back at him. Only lately he started to notice the same untamed look of life in them but now they seemed lifeless again.

“Don’t be sorry. I knew you were not getting better but I still left you alone,” he says and ChangKyun just barely shakes his head. Both of them harvested the same feelings of regret in their chest, the ache they both felt growing in strength, yet not knowing the other felt the same.

“I am stubborn. I have been raised stubborn simply to not disappear as a cursed child somewhere between the mountains,” he says slowly before another set of cough attacks him. He turns his head to the other side. Hoseok’s hand goes from his cheek to his chest, rubbing it softly until the cough stops. The very sound attacks both his ears and heart as it is obviously painful and straining on the smaller man.

“Only one good thing has come out of me being stubborn,” ChangKyun barely smiles, turning back to Hoseok, his cheeks burning as the temperature seems rising in his body even more.

“And what is that?” Hoseok asks, his heart on the verge of breaking at the sight of ChangKyun like this. It has been getting worse and worse for a few days - since the cough started. Even this morning he knew that the man is not well, but he allowed himself to be convinced to leave. His memories mix with reality, his late father coming in his mind along with his final days and the fever that took him away. An incredible pain hits Hoseok’s chest, almost taking his breath away at the thought alone… at the possibility. 

“That I insisted on taking my sister's place and coming here,” ChangKyun admits and his hand slowly, a new wave of shivers going through him, reaches out from below the blanket and settles on top of Hoseok’s. “I have no regrets about being stubborn then, no matter what it implied would happen to me while preparing for that,” he says and at this moment, when this sudden illness has attacked ChangKyun he doesn’t even want to think of his journey here and all it could have implied.

“Rest,” Hoseok says softly and pets the man’s head before taking the wet cloth from his forehead, re-damping it and placing it back. “I will be right here,” he ensures as he sees ChangKyun’s lids getting heavy. It takes a moment for the shivering man to fall asleep, several cough attacks not helping one bit but soon he is able to sleep. Hoseok, as promised remains where he is. He rests his back against the bed and just wishes silently he could help more. He wishes he could have noticed earlier and perhaps done something. Most of all he wishes a speedy recovery is on its way and spirits of the past to keep far away from his head.

Just sitting and waiting, worries piling in his chest, Hoseok dozes off himself and as awakened only by loud banging on the door of the tent. He jumps on his feet and hopes the noise has not woken up ChangKyun, but the cough and half-closed eyes show it’s the exact opposite. He can’t decide for a second to stay with the man that is now awake or to go to the door, but his duty as a khan takes priority and he walks to the entrance of the tent.

For his surprise, he sees Minhyuk on the other side of it. The man is breathing heavily, his eyes large and full of fear as he looks at Hoseok. “The mountain tribe,” he begins and shakes his head, his eyes glancing at ChangKyun who is obviously listening too. “The mountain tribe has declared a war,” he speaks and takes a moment to pause, looking at the man slowly sitting up in the bed before continuing grimly. “A war against the nomads. Against us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am back with an update!  
> I must say, that this is halfway through and soon will reach its end! What are your thoughts? Do you have any guesses on what will happen? Let me know in the comments! I love to read them and reply! <3
> 
> P.S If any of you would want to draw something for this, or edit a cover or maybe jump into a video trailer, I would highly appreciate. Just saying :)


	5. The Fear

The atmosphere is grim. A perfectly unsettling silence has settled in the tent, only the sparkling fire making a sound. Hoseok sits in his chair, his forehead resting in his hand as he leans against one of the armrests with his elbow. The elders and the best warriors sit in front of him near the fire - from men twice his age and two of his peers with the strength he trusted. His mother sat on the side of the bed next to ChangKyun, who despite shivers of fever shaking his whole body sits there as well.

“What is their reasoning?” Hoseok asks, turning to Minhyuk who delivered the message. His heart and mind both are racing like crazy. It is as if all bad luck from the heavens fell over his head at the same time.

“They claim that,” Minhyuk pauses and looks at ChangKyun and Hoseok does the same before looking back at the eagle hunter. “They claim we have stolen their prince when they refused to give us a bride,” he says and there is an evident change in ChangKyun’s face. His already pale, illness attacked features going even paler. He shakes his head and tries to stand up but the khan’s mother manages to keep him in place.

“Lies. They never even acknowledged my birth. I was a curse. Lies,” he pushes past his shaking lips until a cough attack makes him stop. Hoseok grabs on the armrests with both hands to keep himself in place as his whole body wants to move towards the man in pain. He remains seated and knows well enough his attempted movement was seen by others and he doesn’t attempt to cover for it. 

“Quite obviously they are making up stories to gain help from mercenaries as their own forces are not strong enough to take us on,” one of the elders speaks and others nod their heads. “They must believe that a young khan - both in age and experience - won’t be a match to their plan,” he adds and more men nod their heads.

“Little do they know, our khan led us in battles long before he gained a title or entered the second decade of his life,” another man speaks and now the response already becomes verbal rather than just nodding with the murmuring of approval. 

“They must think that the might be distracted by his new role and spouse,” Hyunwoo speaks from the far back, “But I know he will have even more vigor to fight instead,” he smiles all knowingly. He is Hoseok’s friend for all of his life, much like Minhyuk, and has been his sparring partner since they began learning the arts of war. If one man in this room knows of his true strength it is Hyunwoo.

“How many days have they given?” Hoseok turns to Minhyuk again. His heart is uneasy but his mind can be battle ready as soon as it requires.

“The day after tomorrow is when they will cross the border between the meadows and the mountains. The planes between our camp and mountain passes will be our meeting place,” the eagle hunter explains. 

Hoseok’s thoughts immediately go to the disadvantageous battlefield for them. The mountains could be used by the attacking tribe for their advantage with ambushes and long distance archers, while the plain meadows behind the nomads gave them no advantage. Luring them closer to use the forests is dangerous, as they can turn towards the camp faster than one could react.

The khan rests his elbows on his knees and leans forward, his chin on his clasped hands as he stares right into the fire. The mountain tribe is not fully aware of the capabilities of the nomads. They might underestimate their numbers or their techniques as no tale of their battles carried full truth. Regardless of the strategy, an easy win with no losses is not an option, but how to lessen the damage is a priority.

“We will meet them head on and the set time,” he speaks while still looking in the flame. “Only three-quarters of our men will go. Half of them will use horses while the other half will go on foot. We will not take bows or arrows,” the last sentence causes quiet whispering amongst the gathered men but Hoseok continues as if he doesn’t hear it. “The bows and arrows will remain with the women as well as the rest of the horses. When a sign will come, they will charge in from a distance,” the khan explains and the whispering stops. “Nothing will take them by a bigger shock than women on a battlefield,” he looks away from the field at the men before him.

“We shall start preparing now,” one of the men jumps to his feet but Hoseok rises his hand to stop him.

“There is no point on bringing panic or fear to people tonight. First thing when the sun rises - sound the war horn,” he instructs and the man bows slightly, accepting the order. “For today that would be all. Rest and be ready to defend our honor,” the khan stands up and so do the other men. They all bow and Hoseok does the same. Slowly, they leave one after another until only the khan, his mother, Minhyuk and ChangKyun remain in the tent.

“Do you think they have something hidden up their sleeve?” Minhyuk asks and looks at Hoseok who is once more focusing on the slowly dancing flames. “Could they have alliances we don’t know about?”

“Finding out about them would not help much now. It’s a war, and we can’t avoid it,” Hoseok replies. “Besides, our honor is on stake. No one steps on our pride,” he looks at ChangKyun who is laying down with the help of the khan’s mother.

“You’re right,” Minhyuk nods and walks to the door. “Rest well,” he adds before leaving, the door closing silently behind him. A long exhale leaves Hoseok’s lips and the shoulders he has kept throughout the meeting now fall as he walks back to his chair, sitting in the wooden throne.

“You are making the right decision,” his mother speaks and he turns to her. She’s sitting on the edge of the bed, gently petting ChangKyun’s head who has fallen asleep momentarily, the illness that is now tearing him to pieces and the news of the upcoming war taking their toll on him. His sleep is restless - closed eyelids twitching, breathing uneven, shivers still rummaging through this body. The khan’s mother catches his concerned gaze.

“Perhaps you should go and rest in my tent and I should remain with him here?” she suggests but Hoseok shakes his head. He stands up from the chair and walks to the bed, kneeling on the carpet next to it.

“He is my responsibility,” he replies and in a natural and fluid movement his hand exchanges with his mothers, taking over the calming touch on the sleeping man’s head. “As is the war. It’s not only our pride being stepped on but his as well,” the khan says with his eyes only on ChangKyun. “I can’t allow him to be seen like that - like a thing one could steal.”

“I understand,” she nods with an understanding smile on her lips. “However, I beg you to rest,” she adds and the khan just nods. There is a reason for her doubts on him actually doing so, but so much has suddenly fallen on his shoulders she knows well enough her words could only be another burden. Even the broadest shoulders could break.

She leaves quietly and the tent sinks into a silence unusually disturbing. It’s full of unknown, of worries and fear and solutions set yet unclear. No one could predict outcomes of battles, no one could plan so far ahead a victory is the only outcome. Hoseok knows it, but the feeling of responsibility makes his concerns only bigger. On top of that, the man that has become so close to him, so important is now struggling with so much pain and physical weakness and he can’t do a thing about.

With a sigh Hoseok turns around, resting his back against the edge of the bed. He feels the need to remain close to ChangKyun in case something is needed. And, oddly enough, even like this his closeness is at least a little calming. He breathes out slowly and focuses on the dancing flames once more. There is an ominous feeling in his chest and nothing can chase it away. Only the upcoming days would bring an answer to it.

ChangKyun’s breathing calms down and once more Hoseok fixes the blanket around his shoulders and places a cooling cloth on his forehead. He pets the sleeping man’s head a few times, his heart sinking a little, as he had done this already so many times. Each morning, right before the sun begun to rise, ChangKyun would be close to him - sometimes too close even. Not just once had Hoseok lost to the urge to run his fingers through the long brown hair or almost as often he would pull him even closer. The excuse in his head would be the chilly morning air coming into the tent, but in all honesty, his heartfelt something indescribable when he was as close as possible. But now instead of the tingling sensation of excitement, he felt sadness in his chest.

He rests against the bed again and lets his eyes to slowly fall shut and his heart to calm down as the upcoming days promised nothing less but a challenge after a challenge.

  
  


Loud rumbling of drums and roaring of horns awaken ChangKyun. He at least thinks he is awake as he hears the movement outside and the footsteps inside the tent as well, but it is incredibly hard to open his eyes. His lids, his whole body actually, feel incredibly heavy and even the thought of moving his limbs brings the pain. With all the willpower he has, he opens his eyes and looks around the tent. 

The door is open, fresh air coming in, but a small flame is crackling in the fire pit, a steaming pot on top of it. One of the shaman’s helpers - a young woman with the longest braid of thick, black hair ChangKyun has ever seen hanging over her shoulder - is carefully stirring the smoking pot. The shaman herself sat on the floor near the fire, grinding something in a mortar. 

His eyes continue to roam around the room and he knows he is searching for Hoseok, but he can’t find him. What he does see is a set of armor, from distance and through his still foggy eyes looking like scales of a lizard of plates overlapping plates. His clouded mind recalls the war announcement last night and he feels how his chest tightens. A shaky breath leaves his lips and the shaman finally notices he is awake.

Without saying a word she stands up and takes a cup from a small table that Changkyun didn’t notice next to her before. She sprinkles some of the mixes from the mortar into it before pouring a ladle from the pot over it. As quietly she makes her way to the bed and sits cross-legged next to it. Her eyes give unspoken commands and ChangKyun slowly, his head slightly dizzy, sits up. 

The cup is handed to him and it does not need an instruction - he has to drink the steaming liquid. It’s hot but not scalding, quite bitter and almost tangy, but with sweet and oddly spicy undertones. The first sip brings up a new wave of cough but as soon as it passes he drinks more the feeling of the warm liquid flowing through his chest bringing ease to the heavy feeling.

“Do what you feel you have to,” the shaman speaks for the first time during this rather long moment of silence. “When the time will come, make the decision your heart feels content with - not your mind,” she continues and Changkyun doesn’t understand is it her words that confuse him or his illness that clouds his mind.

“You are here for a reason beyond any cursed one's fate,” her words stop ChangKyun’s breath in his throat and another set of cough attacks him. The cup is taken from his hands and he hides his face against his arm, fighting the painful itch in his throat. His head goes light and everything before his eyes become foggy from the intensity of the ear-breaking cough.

Another cup is handed to him but this time not by the rather delicate hands of the shaman but by large, roughed hands he oddly enough recognizes. He looks up and sees the khan sitting where shaman was seconds ago, handing him the cup with the saddest yet most beautiful light sparkling in his deep brown eyes. There’s dirt and scratches on his face and even though ChangKyun needs to ask why his lips seem to be sealed.

He reaches out for the cup being given to him and as his hands touch the khans - so cold and distant and so not as his at the same time - his lips finally are able to move. “Hoseok,” he breathes out and his ears are instantly attacked by hundreds of sounds from far away but still from an oddly close distance. Horses, screaming men, the high pitched shriek of an eagle. ChangKyun blinks his eyes rapidly and tries to focus on Hoseok, but what he sees frightens him. The man before him is wearing the armor ChangKyun saw displayed moments ago, with a large and deep gash right across his chest, growing bigger and redder with each passing second.

“Hoseok,” the khan’s name falls from his shaking lips and the cold he just felt underneath his fingertips disappear from his grip. The khan starts to fall backward, his eyes losing the bright light but still looking only at ChangKyun, and ChangKyun’s first reaction is to reach for him, to grab him and not let him slip away.

“Hoseok!” he yells out desperately despite the incredible pain in his chest that seems to take control of his whole body, paralyzing each muscle. His body as if hits a wall, not being able to move forward anymore, and helplessly he falls back into his place. The view before his eyes become foggy and he can’t focus his gaze on a single thing until he feels rough but warm hands on his cheeks, deep voice calling his name.

“ChangKyun, do you hear me?” the voice that can belong only to the khan asks and weakly the bespoken man nods. There’s a sigh of relief and the hands leave his cheeks. His vision becomes clearer and he can see the silhouette of the khan sitting on the edge of the bed. 

“Here, drink this,” Hoseok’s says gently and the edge of the cup rests against ChangKyun’s lips. He carefully takes a few sips of the hot liquid of the same bitter and spicy taste, the sweet note gone from it. His vision clears and he can finally see the khan clearly. There is a tint of joy now in his chest, seeing those shining eyes so close. It felt as he if hadn’t seen them for days.

“How are you feeling? You suddenly sat up calling my name,” the khan says and ChangKyun can’t deny his surprise. Was he having a fever nightmare? His eyes travel around the room and everything is as he saw it seemingly moments ago. Was he truly dreaming? Even the shaman is sitting where she was before, just without the mortar. Their eyes meet and it’s as if only one answer is possible now.

“I feel better. I just had a fever dream, I guess,” ChangKyun replies and drinks another sip from the cup offered to him. His gaze goes over the room again and stops at the armor set near the khan’s chair. “Tomorrow… will everything go well?” he asks looking at the armor and the khan turns to it too.

“As well as it can go and as well as the ancestors want it to go,” he replies honestly and they both look at each other. “We are warriors as unpredictable as the wind. If luck will be on our side so will be victory,” he says with a faint smile and the confidence in his features makes ChangKyun understand while exactly he is the khan. He has the quality of a leader in him and no one could deny him.

“You need to continue preparing, am I right?” ChangKyun asks and set of cough rises in his chest but he manages to keep it in. He is handed the cup again and this time he takes in his own hands, slowly emptying its content.

“I do. But I will return later,” the khan says and his voice and eyes read how he would want to stay. “Continue resting. You need it,” he smiles and pets ChangKyun’s head gently. He bows to the shaman and leaves the tent. It feels empty seeing him go like this, but ChangKyun is well aware that the illness might have made him extra needy for the calming presence of the khan. He has to manage without him.

Strength returns to Changkyun and leaves him in waves just as cold and hot shivers. He has enough strength to slowly get up from the bed and wash his body, that has been drenched in sweat, at least with a wet cloth and change. There is enough strength in him to eat a small portion of porridge with berries in it, but nothing more can his stomach handle as it is too weak to consume food as well. For a moment his head is clear enough to peak outside of the tent at the camp.

Spears, swords, shields, bows, and arrows along with armor can be seen near every tent. The weapons are being sharpened and armor re-tied stronger but it still feels no natural to the people and there is no fear in their faces. More of determination and strength that radiates from both men and women and it’s an empowering sight. Deep down Changkyun wishes, he could take part in it.

By the evening, however, he can no longer keep his head up and the fever begins rising again. He receives another dose of the bitter drink from the shaman and allows the illness to win over him. This time willingly he lays down and looks at the barely there flames crackling in the fire pit until he falls into loose sleep.

Long after the darkness has settled his sleep gets interrupted. Through the deep twilight of the room, he sees the khan returning. The moment the doors close his broad shoulders lose their regal stance and he exhales deeply. He makes his way to the couch on the other side of the tent and sits down. He exhales again and hides his face in his hands, his elbows resting on his knees and even through sleep and illness clouded vision he looks tired and almost defeated by the amount of responsibility on his shoulders.

Quietly, wrapping the blanket around his shoulders, ChangKyun gets up from the bed. He is slightly dizzy, he feels the fever breaking his bones, but what his heart tells him to do is more important. He walks across the tent and sits next to the khan. The man seems so lost in his thoughts he does not even notice ChangKyun until he speaks.

“Hoseok?” he speaks quietly, his throat sore from the cough and chest aching for the same reason.

The khan looks at him, eyes tired and sad. Without a word, he exhales slowly once again and moves further on the couch. It’s almost concerning until he slowly half lays down - his head on ChangKyun’s lap. He inhales and exhales slowly and doesn’t say a word and ChangKyun decides he should not ask any questions either. Instead, he frees one of his hands from the blanket and, though hesitantly at firsts, threads his fingers through the black hair. It’s the simplest thing but it’s exactly what both of them need. 

The khan’s breathing soon gets even and calm, his eyes closed as at least some sort of sleep has taken over him. In a hypnotizing manner, ChangKyun continues to stroke the man’s hair until his own eyes can no longer remain open. His head rests against the wall of the tent, his hand gently resting on top of the khan’s head as he falls in the dream world until the deciding morning comes.

  
  


Just like the previous morning loud voices and drums wake ChangKyun up. He remembers falling asleep on the couch with Hoseok asleep in his lap, but now he is in the bed and alone. His head is still dizzy and his eyes can’t see clearly, however, it is clear the armor is gone from the stand. Horses can be heard outside and there is a sudden and strong unsettling feeling in ChangKyun’s chest and he jumps out of the bed. Perhaps he does it too fast, his head spinning, but he can’t care less.

He rushes out of the tent, not even bothering to put on his boots, and runs through the narrow gaps between the tents in the camp towards the horse holden. His legs tangle and he loses his balance a couple of times, almost hitting the ground, but the ominous feeling in his chest keeps him moving forward. Its fear mixed with concern and even the nauseous feeling the illness has brought upon him can’t compare to it.

He reaches the clearing where the sight of the nomad army greets. Men - young and old - in full armor with spears and swords, on horses and with shields, their flags moving in the wind high above their heads, stood ready to move forward. He could see Hyunwoo in one of the front lines alongside Minhyuk and Salkhi on his arm. His eyes finally find the khan at the very front. Both him and Gal were wearing armor that looked like scales - almost like a mythical creature of northern tales. He does not look like the gentle man who had the world pushed on his shoulders last night but as a determined leader - shoulders broad and strong, his whole stance commanding the army even before he speaks.

“Ho… Hoseok,” ChangKyun dares to say as loud as his aching throat allows him to. Many heads turn to him, including the always sharp eagle hunter. His eyes read such sudden sadness before he looks at the khan and tells him to look over ChangKyun almost regrets coming, almost regrets speaking up until he sees Hoseok’s face turning to him. There is a mix of concern and worry with just a tint of joy.

He leaves the front of the troops and is before ChangKyun in seconds. He jumps off the horse and unties his helmet, taking it off as he walks towards him. The helmet lands on the ground when he is just a hand reach away and two hands cup ChangKyun’s cheeks. They are clad in gloves, but he can still feel the heat coming from them and ChangKyun places his hands on top of the metal plated gloves. 

“You will be safe, right?” he asks and the khan nods before pressing their foreheads together. The tips of their noses touch and a shiver rushes through ChangKyun and it’s not from the fever. “Promise me that you will come back,” he whispers and locks his eyes with Hoseok’s.

“I promise,” he whispers and takes a step back. He takes ChangKyun’s hands in his and brings them to his lips, pressing a barely-there kiss on them before raising them to his forehead. His eyes fall shut and he takes a deep breath before letting go of them. “I will return,” he as if reassures and takes another breath before he reaches for his helmet. He starts to tie it up but ChangKyun’s hands are faster and he handles the knot, his hand resting on the khan’s cheek for a second before the latter has to take another step back. 

The khan walks back to Gal and gets back on the horse with ease despite the heavy armor. He keeps his eyes on ChangKyun as long as he can before he has to turn back to his troops. The gentle expression is washed away from his face as he returns to his place and he looks as stoic, as unreachable as years ago when ChangKyun saw him only from a distance on the mountain pass.

A loud battle cry falls from the khan’s lips and the troops begin to move. The sound of battle horns and drums along with the marching of the horses and people. It’s a sigh ChangKyun never thought he would see and shivers run over his spine, perhaps of the slowly rising fever as much as the spectacular view.

Hands on his shoulders startle him and he jumps a little until he notices the khan’s mother next to him, placing a blanket on his shaking shoulders. “He will return,” she speaks with determination in her voice and gaze. “But if the mountain crawlers dare to hold him back, we will go and get him,” she adds and ChangKyun nods. Perhaps his destiny laid in this war.


	6. The War

Changkyun’s mind is restless and so is his heart. His body is still tormented by waves of fever-induced shivers and all of his bones feel like they are being broken by an invisible force. Meanwhile, his thoughts wander to the dream he had, the vision of losing the young khan. It felt so vivid, so real that his heart clenches in his chest because of the thought alone. New shivers run all over him but more because of the frightening possibilities brought on by the battlefield rather than the illness. Hoseok is smart. Hoseok is strong. Hoseok is fair. However, war is not fair at all.

In fear of his mind bringing him nothing but worries, ChangKyun lays down on the bed where he has been sitting since he came back to the tent. He pulls the blanket the khan’s mother place around his shoulders around him more tightly and closes his eyes. He can hear the rustling of armor and weapons outside, he can hear the moving of horses and voices of wives ready to ride in a battle at any moment, but strangely enough, he hears sounds from far away as well.

The loud battle drums, the resonant horns, the rhythmic marching of the troops and their armor clinking. He hears hooves of the horses against the rocky meadows right before the mountains and even in this noise he can hear Gal’s between all of them, her armor making her heavier and louder. He can’t see what’s happening, but he can feel the prideful stance the khan has taken looking at the mountain pass where dust and rocks are rustling. And then everything falls silent. Not even the wind is blowing and time as if stops. 

Hoseok’s voice breaks the silence and ChangKyun is not sure if he is hearing words said out loud or are those thoughts, but the simple promise “I will return” resonates in his ears. A loud battle cry echoes through the planes and a sudden movement breaks the near perfect silence. The men, the horses and the high-pitched scream of the eagle above them - all mix in one wave of sound and all come at ChangKyun at once as if pushing him out of the dream. His eyes pop open and he inhales deeply, a cough attack threatening him, before looking around.

The tent seems empty and cold. The midday sun shines right through the roof opening, but it seems to bring no warmth. Everything feels strange and out of place as if each item missed its owner and already quietly mourned him - as if he will never return. The colors no longer look vibrant but rather dull and lifeless, the painted on flowers wittering by each passing moment.

Cold shivers run through ChangKyun’s flesh and he sits up again, not knowing has he even slept or unexplainable visions have clouded his mind once again. He stands up slowly, his head dizzy and vision not as sharp as he would want, and walks towards the khan’s chair facing the center of the room. Strangely yet fascinatingly he can feel Hoseok’s impressive aura still lingering in the seat, his warmth wrapping around it. But at the same time, it seems to fade fast and it could simply be ChangKyun’s illness-ridden mind or his worried heart but the shift of energy is concerning.

He frees his hand from the warmth of the blanket and reaches for the head of the chair and as his hand is about to touch it a horn shakes the air outside. Immediately he lets the blanket to fall from his shoulders and rushes outside despite his vision getting cloudy from the sudden movement. His eyes cannot believe what he sees or rather they do not want to believe it at all.

Gal is restlessly standing in the middle of the camp right in front of the khan’s tent. Her armor is still in place, so is the saddle, but the rider - the khan - is nowhere to be seen. She restlessly stomps in one place and does not listen to any of the nomads gathered around her and even pushes a few away with her head. She’s distressed as of something incredibly precious has been taken away from her and she can’t stand still until she finds it.

Almost mindlessly, ChangKyun stagger’s out of the tent and towards the distressed animal. The moment he is just a few steps away the mare calms down and steps closer to the approaching man, her head finding a place in ChangKyun’s arms. “What’s wrong?” ChangKyun whispers as he rests his cheek against the mare’s, his right hand stroking her neck. He can feel her heart still beating rapidly and even though she’s still radiating warmth it feels distant as if half of it is left somewhere else.

“Get your horses!” a voice ChangKyun can’t mistake as anyone else's but the khan’s mother calls out and a new wave of rustling sets in the camp. Women are putting on armor and helmets, their hands holding weapons and for a second ChangKyun is so lost in the loud beating of his own heart and the noises around him he doesn’t notice the khan’s mother next to him.

“We will bring him back. No mountain crawler will take my son,” she says and reaches for Gal but purely led by instinct ChangKyun holds on to the mare stronger. His common sense tells him to let go, but his loudly beating heart tells him something completely else.

“No,” he whispers. “I have to go myself,” he looks at the woman next to him, her eyes as endless as her sons with the same but still different spark of warmth. “I need to bring him home myself,” ChangKyun adds his voice strangely confident and the woman can just let out a breath and nod slowly.

“You will need armor and a weapon then,” she says and walks towards the khan’s tent, ChangKyun following her and Gal walking behind him one step behind without even being led as if he is now her sole focus.

The khan’s mother walks straight into the tent and Changkyun follows her silently. The previously cold room seems to gather warmth from the woman - the warmth of hope and determination - and the previously withering flowers on each painted piece of furniture as if come back to life. She digs through the chest of drawers next to the couch and unloads an armor similar to the one ChangKyun saw displayed in the room yesterday.

“This is Hoseok’s from the time he was not the khan,” she says as she approaches ChangKyun. It is the first time he has ever heard her use the khan’s name and there is a deep bittersweet tone to her voice. “He was young and bold - brave beyond words and always alongside the khan before him on the battlefield with his father being the khan's first general,” she says as she fondly looks at the scale armor in her hands. “He changed so much when his father passed away,” she gently runs her hand over the armor, resting it above where Hoseok’s heart would hide under it.

“His father was taken by illness. The fever broke his bones and spirit until nothing was left,” she looks up at ChangKyun and lets out a breath before approaching him. She places the armor down and motions ChangKyun to lift his arms to the height of his shoulders. “Hoseok was on the battlefield with the khan and couldn’t be there,” she adds to her story and places the large chest and back piece of the armor on ChangKyun’s shoulders pulling it over his head.

“It became even harder when the khan passed away as well soon after,” the khan’s mother continues as she tightens the leather ties on the sides, pulling the armor together before continuing with the arm pieces. “And then, when he was still mourning both his father and the khan, he was elected the new ruler of our people,” she ties down every piece of the armor with great and skill, her lifetime of putting the armor on her late husband and her son evident in her fingertips.

“He never had the time to come in terms with the loss and all new burdens laid upon his shoulders and I couldn’t and still can’t take them away,” she speaks slowly and sadly as the ties down the last piece of the leg armor and pushes boots towards ChangKyun. “And now heaven’s are testing him more and more and I wish I could do more for my only son, but I can’t,” she sighs again, her deep brown eyes watery but she remarkably has full control of her emotions.

“But you can,” her rough hands rest on Changkyun’s cheeks. “It is an insane request as I feel your body shivering from the persistent illness, but don’t leave my son. Another loss he won’t be able to take,” she almost pleads. “Bring him home - back to me and back to you.”

ChangKyun can just nod. He doesn’t trust his voice as he himself keeps back a lump in his throat. His chest aches more and more by every second and he just lowers his glossy eyes to avoid the pleading gaze of the khan’s mother. However, her hands move his head so he would look up. Her smile is sad and but hopeful and she lets out another exhale before placing the final piece - the helmet - on top of ChangKyun’s head and tightens it.

“What is the weapon you know you can wield well?” she asks, her voice a bit unstable.

“Bow and arrows. I’m quite skillful with those,” he tries to smile a bit but he knows his smile is weak and not entirely sincere. However, he is the one who has to keep himself composed and ignore the bone breaking ache in his body and the shivers going through his body. He has a task to complete and it is his only focus right now.

ChangKyun follows the khan’s mother out of the tent and walks to Gal, who is standing next to the tent. As he reaches the horse, his vision goes blurry and his balance seems to fail him as he stumbles forward. He catches himself against the mare - his hands on her side - and for a moment rests his head against her. As if knowing and feeling his weakness the mare gently pokes him with her nose and ChangKyun moves from her side, his hands resting on the warm cheeks and his forehead against hers. 

“Let’s go and bring him back,” he says with a shaky exhale before returning to the side of the horse. For his surprise, the mare kneels with her front legs, her instinct being more precise than any observation made with human eyes. ChangKyun would have not succeeded to get on any other way - riding a horse alone still being an experience he is not entirely familiar with.

As the mare stands up the khan’s mother returns on her own horse. She carries two sets of bow and arrows with her. One of them is handed to ChangKyun and he examines the weapon first. He is more used to slightly different shape and elasticity, but this is familiar enough. To practice, he draws back the elastic string and he can feel himself how his arms are shaking, the fever rising once more and the bright late noon sun along with the heavy armor don’t help a single bit.

“Are you ready?” the khan’s mother ask and he nods. Slowly, more letting Gal lead him rather than him leading Gal, he follows the khan’s mother to the front of their troops. It’s all women - in full armor from head to toe and weapons in hands - and just as ChangKyun observed when he first came here, from a distance this would look like a group of men and only up close the more feminine features could be seen. 

He sees the mother who placed her wedding headwear on his head because her daughter asked, next to her are the girls who always observed the khan and ChangKyun from a distance with a knowing smile. Further away he sees the young woman who he first met at the campfire bickering with Jooheon, only later he found out she is his bride. Jooheon himself stood at the side, his leg not letting him to participate. He sees Shownu’s wife - a largely built woman just like her husband - ready to wield a large sword rather than use the long-distance option. They all were ready to bring their men back home.

“The remaining men will guard the camp, so it’s only us,” the khan’s mother explains. “Believe me when I say - no mountain crawler has ever seen an angry nomad woman, at least long enough to tell of her,” she said with pride and her aura had the same incredibly regal presence as her son’s. She takes the place her son had in front of the troops and waits for a second before looking at a spot next to her as if inviting ChangKyun to stand next to her. Only when he takes the spot she speaks - her voice loud and clear.

“We are bringing our men home!” she exclaims and a roaring cheer comes from behind her. “We shall make them fear a nomad woman!” she adds and another roar follows. What follows is a loud, almost howl like scream which is mimicked by all the woman before she starts moving forward rapidly. Luckily for ChangKyun, Gal follows along the troops and does not need his unskilled guiding.

His head is dizzy and the speed makes his lungs to ache from the rapidly inhaled air, but he is determined to bring Hoseok home. Nomads are his people now and the camp is his home - he knows where his loyalty lies and where his heart wants to be. Both are connected to one man - the man ChangKyun is ready to fight for.

 

**_~ Earlier ~_ **

 

It is an ambush as predicted but nothing can be done about it apart from fighting back. The mountain tribe has reinforced their lines with mercenaries from the river tribe as well as warriors from the west. Never before seen weapons - swords and armors of odd shapes - appear amongst the usually simple armament of the mountain people. They have riders on their side despite not having more than few horses themselves and it is obvious they are not local. Long distance archers hide between the rocks and it almost looks like a helpless situation. It would be for anyone else but the nomads.

“Now,” Hoseok says loudly enough for  only  Minhyuk to hear and Salkhi flies up to the sky with just the slightest nudge of Minhyuk’s hand. His eyes are locked on the eagle and as if they are the same being - as if the same force is guiding them - the eagle follows the most subtle movements of the man. Gracefully, she circles the troops and lets out a high pitched screech.

Four men ride out of their places, large branches that were picked up from the bushes on their way here tied to the back of their horses. There is another screech from the eagle and the horses start to run zigzag across the field. The mountain troops can’t seem to grasp what’s going on and when one of their leaders yell to stop them it is too late, as the whole rocky and sandy meadow is a sea of dust as high as a full horse and a rider.

Before the dust settles, Hoseok draws his sword from his belt and raises it high above his head. His heart is raising at an insane speed, outrunning even the fastest horse, but his mind is solely focused only on the battle before him. His soul tries to break out of his chest through every breath and rush back to the camp. He had suffered losses his heart could never fully grasp while being in on a battlefield and he is not ready to live through anymore.

“I will return,” is the last thought in his mind before a battle cry falls from his lips and he moves forward with full speed through the thick clouds of dust, his men following him. Neighs of the horses, loud voices of men and the metallic sound of weapons meeting fill the air, traveling through the beige dust. Screams and cries of surprise, curses, and words in unknown languages mix with the rising wind and spreads across the land. 

There is a level of trust in the ability and agility of his men, but the soldiers from the west make Hoseok uneasy. They seem to be eyeing the riders in particular and it is definitely a bad sign as their tactics are unknown and as predicted they do bring trouble.

As Hoseok approaches them one of them draws out a [pole that should be the base of a spear](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Man_catcher), but at the end of is a circle with one end open in an odd way and what seemed to be metal teeth all around the inner edge of it. For Hoseok’s surprise, the pole is thrust in his direction, aiming for his neck, however, his hand is faster and the contraption locks around his forearm instead. It’s a battle of strength and endurance from now on as two of the foreigners try to pull Hoseok off his horse. 

The metal spikes dig into his skin even through the armor and the pain alone does not allow him to use his full strength. The higher position on the horse is not playing to his benefit either making it easier for the attacking men to mess with his balance. A decision has to be made immediately and Hoseok looks around. More and more of the odd contraptions appear in the hands of the foreigners, his men dodging them for now. The decision comes to him easier than he thought it would.

The khan jumps of his mare, the power the two men had over him lost, and ignoring the burning pain in his arm he pulls them forward by the pole they are using. His sword moves faster than one of the men and pierces his torso. The other one seems too confused to move and it is easy to pull the pole from his hand and thrust the sword through him as well.

Taking the gadget off is as painful as when it first bit into the skin. It tears at the flesh as it is pulled away and the pain is bigger than expected, but it can’t be a distraction. “Gal, home,” Hosoe speaks to the mare that is still by his side. The situation required a surprise from the nomads as well. Not only the mountain tribe had tricks up their sleeves. Though hesitant the mare gallops away from the battlefield avoiding the center of the battle. Only when she can no longer be seen Hoseok returns to the battlefield around him. 

He has to take care of the foreigners with the weird poles before they managed to grab any other of the riders. If that device would grab around someone’s neck as it is intended to do it would cause an injury that would mean death - if not instant then a slow and painful one definitely. Even the arm that got caught in it is stinging to no end so anything else could be lethal.

Maneuvering through the field is a task manageable only if one is not scared to use his sword and fists. That is well known by Hoseok and all of his men. He moves through the enemy lines but not deeper into the mountain where archers were hiding but rather along the edge of the line the mountain people and their allies tried to keep. Each time a man in plate armor stands in his way with his way holding that dangerous pole he takes care of him first before taking any interest in the men around him.

While he cut his way forward he couldn’t help but hope the assistance would come soon as archers could solve the situation they had fallen in because of the allied forces. He sees his own men falling from the horses and stumbling as they are grazed by arrows, but not a single one stops and keeps moving forward. Never have nomads run from a battle and this will not be the first time.

  
  


Already from afar the sounds of screams and weapons meeting in battle can be heard and ChangKyun’s heart sinks. He has never seen a battlefield before, nor has ever seen such amount of death before. He tries his best not look at the fallen ones in fear he would recognize any of the nomads or perhaps someone from the mountain tribe. He fears to see lifeless eyes looking at him and recognizing them from the days when they were still full of life.

As the first fallen start to appear the troops slow down and form a line around the field where men are fighting men in an arch. They do it so quietly it is almost unbelievable they are on horses. As quietly they draw their bows and arrows, aiming straight at the moving mess of people. Not a single hand is shaking, not a single woman is moving while waiting for a signal. 

As loudly as before, the mother of the khan lets out the howl-like yell and suddenly half of the battlefield moves down, shields appearing here and there. Before the other half manages to react a rain of arrows falls upon them as all women let go of the elastic strings at the same time. Immediately, they reach for another arrow and aim as precisely as before. There is another yell and another set of arrows piercing through the ones they didn’t catch before.

Only now do they notice how many different types of armor appear between the nomads, how many different languages they hear. They were most definitely needed here. Perhaps arriving faster would have been even better, but even now they are ready to bring a victory.

“Closer!” the khan’s mother instructs and all of the riders at once close in on the bubbling battlefield. Some of the closer standing survivors of the rain of arrows decide to change their focus on them, however not for long. The woman ChangKyun recognized a Shownu’s wife jumps off her horse, the large sword in her hand menacing to the sight, and as soon as the man wearing shiny chainmail shirt is close enough and her features stun him he is greeted by the blade.

“Go,” the khan’s mother now speaks to ChangKyun who hasn’t even drawn his bow yet, his mind not grasping the full sight before him. Perhaps the blurry fog over his eyes and the cold sweat running down his back paid a part in it too. “Find him,” she adds and ChangKyun nods, gently nudging Gal, who immediately knows where to go.

Archers behind him secure his way as he rides into the epicenter of the battle. He sees faces of nomads fiercely going against the liars who tried to tarnish their name. What is not a lie are the stories of the battlefield  - a nomad on a battlefield is as fierce as a wild animal and as scary as well. He surprisingly sees more of foreign attires than those of the mountain people yet he knew those who he used to call ‘his people’ were not fighters, to begin with.

ChangKyun’s foggy eyes keep searching for Hoseok. He knows, he feels he is not amongst the fallen ones. Little to no one matched his strength and ChangKyun believed in it as well. He rushes through the enemies, not paying much attention to the people around him with a single purpose to find the khan. Even when a sharper pain hits his side he doesn’t pay any attention it, desperately moving forward.

Finally, he sees the lizard-like armor in the distance, however, his heart sinks as he sees the khan surrounded by 3 other men. All his strength goes into deflecting the attacks and he can’t seem to fight back properly. Though ChangKyun’s eyes are still unable to focus he can see that Hoseok is not using one of his arms and it hits him - he is injured.

He hears another order for the archers behind him and using it as a distraction he draws his own bow and an arrow. Usually, such close aim would not be a problem, but his head is dizzy, he can’t see well and he feels waves of shivers threatening to attack him at the worst possible moment. He has to try. With the strength he has left in his aching bones he pulls back at the string and aims for one of the men. In a second the arrow splits the air and hits the man in the back. He aimed for the head but this is good enough. For the second one his hands shake and he gets him in the shoulder, but it is enough for Hoseok to finish him off and take care of the third one. 

In a daze ChangKyun lets Gal lead the way to Hoseok. It is not enough to describe him as shocked as he sees who is upon the mare. Swiftly, without saying a word, he gets on the horse behind ChangKyun, taking the reins in his hands. It feels oddly similar to the morning ride they had just a little while back but there is nothing from the softness and calmness of that present here.

“Why are you here?” Hoseok asks as his gloved hand rests under ChangKyun’s chin and just like then turns his head so their eyes would meet. “You’re still burning up,” he concludes by a single look at ChangKyun’s flushed face and glassy eyes.

“I’m here to take you home,” ChangKyun replies simply. “Who else if not  I?” he asks with a faint smile and he wishes he could see something more apart from deep concern in Hoseok’s face, but his dimmed gaze can’t seem to catch anything else.

“Then now you will have to hold on tight,” Hoseok says almost too quietly for the still loud battle behind him, his thumb running over ChangKyun’s cheek. The latter nods and grabs a hold on the front of the saddle. The feeling of safety as the two arms surround him from either side is there without a doubt but a single look at the torn up forearm on his left breaks his heart and the view of the blood makes his stomach turn.

The horse is turned towards the archers and ChangKyun doesn’t question this decision. He sees many others of the nomads pulling back to the women and taking the spare bows and arrows from them just to move back into the battlefield, circling the remaining opponents. They all end up in a bundle in the middle of the field and each movement out of place is rewarded by an arrow. Curses of unknown languages spew from their lips and as Hoseok approaches them along with ChangKyun they only grow louder. 

The khan eyes them for a second ignoring the enraged looks he’s getting. “We don’t take prisoners, nor do we send messengers,” he says in a voice so cold it’s almost not his. He turns the horse away from the obvious site of execution and rides toward the archers gathering at one place.

“Minhyuk has taken out their archers. We saw Salkhi,” the khan’s mother announces as Hoseok stops the mare. He jumps off the horse and as always helps ChangKyun to get down as well. Almost as soon as the battle had started, behind the cover of dust, he had sent Minhyuk and several men to use the other mountain path and get to the hidden archers. The plan has paid off.

“I’m glad that sending Gal paid off. She is the only messenger that could get through and get you to arrive on time,” he says with just a tint of smile that falls instantly. “We do have some losses,” he admits and turns to look at the battlefield behind Gal and ChangKyun. What he doesn’t expect to see is ChangKyun’s form as if deflating slowly.

He barely manages to move forward fast enough to catch the falling man, unfortunately on his injured hand, but the pain is nothing in comparison to the fear he once again has coursing through his veins. Even during the battle, his hands didn’t shake as much as they do now when he lowers the man on the ground, kneeling down himself. Frantically he rids him of the helmet and throws his own off, pulling his glove off with his teeth. 

As he lays his hand on ChangKyun’s cheek it’s as hot as fire. His breathing is uneven and heavy; his chest rising and falling rapidly. Hoseok’s eyes go over the fainted man, his mother kneeling next to him and others gathering around as well, until he notices a stick poking at the side of the man. Without a doubt it is a broken off arrow.

“No. Not like this,” Hoseok murmurs. He hands the man over to his mother for a second as he gets on top of Gal. His own arm stings and a new wave of adrenaline is about to take over and now his heart is in charge - not his mind. 

“Hand him to me,” he instructs and several women gather up to carefully lift the unconscious man onto the horse and into Hoseok’s arms. “Mother, can you…” he looks at the woman still standing next to the horse.

“I will take care of everything here. Go,” she nods and as the last word leaves her lips he nudges Gal and speeds of towards the camp. Enough is lost today. He is not ready to lose ChangKyun as well. Not now nor ever if he could do anything about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, darlings!  
> This journey is coming to an end and perhaps sooner than some of us would want to, but I have learned the hard way to end the stories when it feels right.  
> Next week either Friday or Saturday I will post the last chapter and the epilogue on Sunday, so one and a half chapter is left. After this, I will take a small break from weekly updates. I will continue writing, however, I will not post for at least a week or two (maybe more) to have enough material ready for weekly updates later on. I already have my next idea pretty much ready in my head and all that is left now is to write it.  
> If you want to keep up with what I am doing, I suggest following me on Twitter @BeanSensei for all updates.  
> As for now - let me know how you liked this chapter? How do you think this story will end?  
> Until next time xoxo


	7. The Healing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *WooJin - one of the Korean names for K.A.R.D's B.M

Adrenaline courses through Hoseok’s veins as if he is still on the battlefield. His heart has taken over his actions and instead of the rational and planned ones, he would depend on in the face of danger he lets his feelings and emotions guide him. With one hand he is holding to the rails of Gal, who feeling the same anxiety and worry as her master runs through the steppes with all her might. With the other hand, Hoseok holds the unconscious ChangKyun close to him - as close as he possibly could as if the faint and unstable breathing he feels on his neck keeps him in reality.

Fear is not an uncommon feeling for him as for any of the nomads, but most of the time they have learned to hide and control it, to get over it and move forward. This time he can’t keep it back. He can’t even put in coherent thoughts what exactly he fears and what he would do if these unnamed fears would come true. He just knows he needs to do everything and more to win over them.

When the camp is in sight he doesn’t slow down even a bit and in full force rushes through the rows of the white tents. Gal barely stops in front of the khan’s tent and stomps the ground before it restlessly as the conscious man on her back doesn’t know how to act either. His eyes look around for anyone to help and the moment he sees Jooheon limping over as fast as he can, some of the elders following him along with one of the shaman’s apprentices, he exhales and finally pushes words past his lips.

“Please, help,” he knows his voice sounds desperate and he doesn’t look like himself - as the strong and determined leader his people deserve. He feels like a helpless child who has found a wounded bird and now begs for someone to heal it as he himself is unable to and the feeling sinks deeper and deeper in his being.

“Hand him over,” Jooheon is suddenly next to the horse and Hoseok can’t even fully grasp what is happening around him. Only once before he has let such panic control him and it ended up with him losing something too dear to his heart. He can’t let it happen again.

“Be careful,” he speaks as he lowers ChangKyun into Jooheon’s and apprentices' arms. He jumps off the horse himself and even though he has the need to carry the man in single-handedly, his wounded arm starts to sting again and he can’t risk it. With the help of Jooheon, he takes ChangKyun in and lays him down on the bed. The shaman rushes in near the very moment and her all-knowing eyes scan the room before she starts giving out instructions.

“Take his armor and shirt off, get water and bring the green bag from my tent,” she tells the last part to the girl she came with her while the first part is more directed towards Jooheon who is next to ChangKyun already.

“The khan needs to sit down, get his own armor and dirty clothing off,” she says even though she knows her words just barely reach him, his whole focus on ChangKyun and no one else. “Get the orange bag and take care of the khan’s arm,” she instructs the girl who is already here. Only when her orders are starting to be fulfilled does she herself move. Her hand lands on Hoseok’s shoulder, who can do nothing more but helplessly look at the heavy breathing man on the bed.

“We need to take care of both of you as quickly as we can as more injured warriors will return,” she says and Hoseok can just nod. His eyes almost don’t leave ChangKyun as he takes his own armor off, letting the heavy, scaled plates fall on the ground next to his chair. The blood, sweat, and dirt ruined shirt follows and now he himself can fully see the damage on his arm - deep, raw and bloody wounds when the strange device had grabbed onto his flesh. Dirt and sand along with blood stains the water as he rinses it out and perhaps the damage he has sustained is more serious than he first thought, but his eyes go back ChangKyun regardless.

The apprentice that ran off first is back and now, along with Jooheon, assists the shaman. They have turned ChangKyun to the side, giving better access to the broken arrow. The flesh around the wound gets cleaned thoroughly and a mixture of herbs the shaman quickly crushes in a mortar is placed around it. “Star a fire,” she turns to Jooheon who nods and moves to the fire pit in the middle of the tent. 

“Khan, please sit down and let your wounds to be treated,” the shaman’s voice fills the room and Hoseok’s eyes move from  ChangKyun’s restless face to the shaman before he nods and walks to his chair, taking a seat. One of the shaman’s apprentices rushes by immediately and looks at his arm. His focus, however, remains on the other wounded man in the room.

The fire is crackling in full force in moments, Jooheon managing it well. “Heat this,” the shaman hands him a metal ladle that is completely flat and thick, almost arrow shaped at the very end of it. He doesn’t question it and takes it by the leather-covered handle and places the end of it in the fire. There’s an unsettling silence in the room.

Even more unsettling, however, is the sight how the shaman’s fingers pry open ChangKyun’s mouth and jaw, placing a wooden branch wrapped in cloth between his teeth. It is a preparation for something that might cause extreme pain and that alone adds a layer of unpleasant vibe in the air, even though it is probably needed.

The shaman’s eyes are on the metal in Jooheon’s hand and the moment it turns red from the heat, she pulls the arrow from ChangKyun’s side which makes the man to jolt awake with a painful cry around the gag. She grabs the ladle from Jooheon and thrusts the red hot metal on the wound and another cry, even more painfilled than before, breaks from ChangKyun’s lips. It sends his body trashing in new pain and 3 people can barely keep him still.

Hoseok is about to jump up from his chair. His heart pulls him forward and he has to put all his strength to actually keeping himself in place. He has to be next to the man in pain, he has to do all he can to make it easier, to help even if by just being there, but the girl holding on to his wounded arm, covering it in ointment and bandages holds him in place. His hearing blocks out her pleads to sit still as his whole being pulls towards the man.

The latter is still crying out in pain, his voice breaking each time the shaman works on his wound. he gag falls from his mouth and the sound becomes even more gutwrenching. His skin covers with sweat, his voice swallowed by a cough that only intensifies the pain. In a moment of agony, his watery eyes look around the room as if looking for something or rather someone. His eyes land on Hoseok and for a second he looks nothing less but relieved. There is a small smile in his parted lips and is he slowly blinks the tears that have accumulated his eyes run over his cheeks. Just barely, just in a barely audible whisper of the khan’s name leaves his lips and Hoseok can’t sit still. He shakes off the apprentice from his arm and is up from his chair instantly just to be on his knees next to the bed in seconds.

“I’m here,” he whispers, his hand slowly and gently petting the man’s head while the shaman finalizes sealing his wound and putting bandages on it. ChangKyun doesn’t say anything, all strength he has mustered till now has finally left. His eyes are locked on Hoseok and they might even say more than words - the relief and joy of seeing the khan, the pain and torment his body is feeling. Slowly, his eyes flutter shut and remain closed and for a moment a sense of panic rushes through the khan again before the shaman speaks.

“He now will sleep. The wound is deep and his body is weak from the illness. If he will pull through will depend on his own will and the destiny the ancestors have given him,” she speaks grimly and Hoseok doesn’t even want to look at her serious face. Gently, he rolls ChangKyun on his back. He pets his head a few more time, his eyes scanning the sleeping man as if making sure he is truly just asleep before he stands up.

“Regardless, he has fulfilled his purpose…” the shaman begins but Hoseok cuts her off near immediately.

“His purpose is to be by my side. He has barely found it,” he states before exiting the tent. His heart is full to the brim and he can’t take the sight of ChangKyun like this - weak and in pain, that small smile he so often started to show lately gone. Hoseok’s mind traveled back to the other times he has seen such view before his eyes and the result that came a few days later in both cases and the thought alone sends a shiver through him and his heart clenches in his chest. 

The loud noise of soldiers and horses returning snaps him out or rather distracts him and he plunges into his duties as a khan head first. He feels the concerned looks of his mother and his close friends as he rounds up the remaining troops and counts them. As if it is all perfectly fine he praises their bravery and holds and memorial cheer for the fallen. His jaw is shaking and he has to clench it as he goes to personally apologize to the families, who well knew of this possible out come. His own thoughts running to possibilities that a burial ritual should be postponed for another fallen one.

With all his willpower he presses down his thoughts and continues with his duties. He looks after so all the injured ones would get treatment in order of seriousness. Personally, even though he doesn’t have to, he makes sure food and water is provided for the returned soldiers. He assigns the healthiest ones to check on the horses and weapons and the elders to prepare for burials of the fallen. Throughout all his actions he senses at least two, occasionally more, pairs of worried eyes on him. 

It’s already late, the darkness of the night wrapping around the camp and fighting against the dancing flames of the campfires all around the camp and on the perimeter, the guards in full alert in case a surprise attack would come. Only when everything settles in a rather ordinary night time routine does Hoseok sit down. He chooses a hidden spot behind his tent, near where the horses are and the moment he sits down on the ground it’s as if everything breaks loose.

His body starts shaking and his breath gets caught in his chest. The world before his eyes becomes foggy and he feels how tears start running over his cheeks even though he still tries to keep them in. He bites on his lower lip not to let out a sound and tries to look up at the sky which is clear from all clouds, revealing countless stars above him. 

It doesn’t help much and he just gains a bigger knot in his throat as such clear night hasn’t happened for a while and ChangKyun would love to see such endless sky above them. The stars would reflect in his eyes creating another sky in them and that soft smile would appear on his lips again. He would tell a story about how looked at the sky between the peaks of the mountains and Hoseok would just listen and sink in the moment. But now he is sitting here alone with the lingering thought at the back of his head, that it was and is so close to ChangKyun not being able to experience a thing anymore, so close from him disappearing from Hoseok’s side forever.

It's just his thoughts that rampage in his head madly, creating outcomes that are by no means certain, but since the moment ChangKyun collapsed in his arms those are the only ones in his mind. He can’t help, he wishes he could but he can’t. On one side he wants to go to the tent and check on the man there after all these hours but on the other, he fears the possibility of a painful revelation before his eyes.

A shaky breath falls from his lips and he hides his face in his hands, his elbows resting on his knees, and all he can do is quietly pray to the spirits not to take back the gift they gave him just a few moons back. Just recently he had truly understood the worth of the man in his life and he hasn’t even told it to ChangKyun ye.

“Hoseok,” his mother's voice startles him and he pulls his hands off his face to look at her, however, he turns away quickly to wipe his cheeks dry. He keeps his head turned away and doesn’t say a word, not trusting his voice a single bit. He feels and hears how she walks closer and sits down next to him. “Don’t hide, my dear,” she speaks softly her hand on Hoseok’s back, rubbing it gently. “Let it out,” she encourages.

“What kind of a khan will I be if I will let it out,” Hoseok whispers, finding it to be the easiest way to control his voice. “A leader needs to be strong. A leader needs to be clear-minded to make decisions good for everyone,” he speaks so quietly he can barely hear himself.

“A leader needs to be sincere. A leader needs to listen to his heart as much as his mind,” his mother counters his words. “Do you remember the previous khan?” she asks and Hoseok just nods. “Then you remember how much he did for his wife, right?” Hoseok nods again in response to her words. “Did he ever make a bad decision just because his heart was with her?” she asks another question and this time Hoseok has to shake his head. “Then…” 

“I’m afraid I will lose him,” Hoseok admits quietly and turns his head more towards his mother. “I am so afraid that he will fade away that I can’t think of anything else,” he says as new set of very disobedient tears stream from his eyes and he lowers his gaze to the grass before him. “It’s as if all tests from the ancestors have fallen on me at the same time and instead of carrying them with dignity I am breaking and… I know he could help but now even he is taken away from me,” he rubs his face with his hands and tries to breath normally even though it’s hard. “How more selfish can I sound…” 

“Do you know why allowed him to come with us?” his mother asks and he has to shake his head again. “Because when Gal came to the camp alone his eyes read the same fear as you just said with words. They read the determination of helping with all he has even when his own body was giving up on him. More than anything he was determined to bring you home and he did,” her words just add to the deep abyss Hoseok feels his heart slipping in. In an odd way he felt joy as he means to ChangKyun as much as he means to him, but he suddenly felt even weaker at the same time.

“And, my dear, the only one who is responsible for being away from him at this very moment is you. He is right there - just a few steps away - and he can help you by just being there, can’t he?” as always the mother’s wisdom makes Hoseok nod and he tries inhaling and exhaling deeply. 

The very moment one of the shaman’s apprentices appear from the corner of the tent. “He has awakened and is asking for you,” she says simply and bows before leaving from where she came. Hoseok's heart both sinks and jumps from joy and worries.

He’s on his feet instantly and is about to run to the tent before he stops and helps his mother on his feet. “Be sincere,” she says as her hands lay in her sons’ for a second before he rushes off. 

Hoseok slows down only at the very front of the tent. He wipes his face with his hands and rubs his eyes in hopes to get rid of the evidence of his tears. He takes a deep breath and walks in. The room is filled with the warm light of the crackling fire and the scent of herbs. A smaller pot is bubbling next to the fire, not completely covering it and is filled with herbal tea which is probably the cause of the aroma. Only the apprentice is in the room, leaned over the bed and fixing a blanket over ChangKyun.

“I will be at the campfire outside in case I am needed. You are welcomed to drink the tea as well, it has a calming and healing effect,” she takes a small bow and leaves pass Hoseok. For a moment he remains near the door before he walks to the bed and sits on the floor next to it. Two tired, heavy-lidded eyes slowly open to looking at him and just the faintest smile appears on the man’s lips before it falls and almost forms a frown.

“Have you cried?” he asks, his voice raspy and strained from what he had to go through earlier. His hand escapes the tucked blanket and reaches out towards Hoseok, the latter moving closer instantly to let it land on his cheek gently. 

“I did. A little bit,” Hoseok admits, his own hand resting on top of ChangKyun’s and keeping it in place. “I got… really scared,” he says and feels how emotions bubble up in his chest again but he keeps them intact, his eyes locked on ChangKyun. Even though tired and drained he is here - his hand warm on Hoseok’s cheek and that is what he needs to focus on.

“What could ever scare the khan?” ChangKyun asks and for a second Hoseok considers not answering, but deep down he knows he needs to.

“Losing you. I was scared I could lose you,” he looks straight into the man’s eyes and he sees the change in them to an emotion he couldn’t really explain but he felt it  - from his own eyes to the deepest core of his heart. Even more - he knows he mirroring the same with his eyes.

“Mountain crawlers are tough. Especially the ones who are nomads in heart,” ChangKyun jokes and even though he is too drained to do it properly he smiles and Hoseok can just return a smile. He takes ChangKyun’s hand from his cheek and presses his lips against it briefly before pressing it against his forehead in the affectionate gesture of his people.

“Don’t cry anymore,” ChangKyun says suddenly taking Hoseok aback. “Unless I am there to led you my shoulder or my embrace, alright?” he still has the small smile on his lips and such simple words make his heart tremble. Hoseok nods and places another kiss on top of ChangKyun’s hand.

“Alright,” he replies. “You need to rest and so do I,” with a small exhale he stands up and fills two mugs with the barely steaming tea from the pot before he returns to the side of the bed. He places one down and moves closer with the other one. Gently, he supports the back of ChangKyun’s head as he just barely sits up to drink from the mug. He winces both at the taste and at the pain from the wound in his side and Hoseok lays him down again.

“This will help with pain and let you sleep,” he explains and this time ChangKyun is the one who nods. Hoseok downs his own mug before placing both of them away next to the pot. He grabs the pillows from the couch and a lonely blanket from the chest of drawers and places them all on the rug next to the bed.

“What are you doing?” ChangKyun asks, trying to see over the edge of the bed while still laying down. 

“I am going to sleep here,” Hoseok answers as if it is self-explanatory. He throws off his boots and returns to his spot next to the bed. The eyes that were so tired a moment ago are now wide and looking at him. “I would move the couch closer but my arm hurts. Ideally, I would like to sleep next to you, but you need to start healing first. So this is the best option,” he explains to the man before him who seems to be listening but not fully grasping what the man is saying.

“If it wouldn’t hurt every time I inhale too deeply, I would laugh,” ChangKyun admits and those words alone calm Hoseok down a bit more. He knew from experience that at points intense pain made one so disconnected to the world around them they almost felt and seemed as if everything is fine so this does not mean ChangKyun is fine. It just means he is ready to fight and is aware of his own state.

“Rest well,” Hoseok says as he feels after almost intentionally exhausting himself earlier, the breakdown not helping and the herbs taking their effect he is ready to sleep. He rests his good arm on the edge of the bed and a bid boldly moves forward, pressing his lips against ChangKyun’s forehead. “I will be right here,” he assures and the man nods, his lids obviously getting heavy again. Though the concern has not completely left Hoseok, he lays down on his makeshift bedspace, where the warmth from the slowly dying out fire reaches him. Relief and still present worries both rummage around his head before he falls asleep.

 

As feared, the morning come with fever attacking ChangKyun again. It is hard to tell is it his previous illness or is the healing of the wound causing this. It’s hard for him to stay awake and the sweating that comes along with the shivers tearing his body form the inside threaten the healing of the wound. It’s as if the short moment of him being awake and talking was either a dream or an unfair tease of what can be lost so easily. Yet this time Hoseok doesn’t run away like he did last night.

He makes sure to be there where the help is needed to change the bandages and when the fever shivers are too strong. He is by ChangKyun’s side at every moment he can spare but he doesn’t forget about the rest of the camp. As he should, he hears out the reports on the state of horses and weapons, on the healing process of the soldiers and how preparing for the burial is going. His own body is still fighting to heal the gashes in his arm and he obliges to bandage changes, but he feels his strength leaving him as well.

Even if he knows he doesn’t have to tear himself in two to be with ChangKyun and in the camp he doesn’t know any other way how to deal with it all. He needs a distraction before his thoughts spiral back down to the pure panic and fear he felt the first evening. 

Distractions work for a while - 4 days when ChangKyun is going through the heaviest fever and so much has to be done in terms of recovery for the tribe he manages to keep it together. But when a new burden is suddenly placed on his shoulders it almost breaks everything. 

 

It is a late afternoon when a horseman not seen before approaches the camp. He is wearing clothing light and breezy, not suited for the steppe at all. He carries a curved sword at his side and just a small bag for food and his belongings attached to the saddle. His build is lean and tall, face could be called handsome with large, grey eyes and full lips. Hair white as over bloomed dandelions and cut short. The most unusual about him might be the falcon sitting on his shoulder. 

The guards, who still are on full alert, stop the man and he does not fight back as he is taken to the center of the camp. A crowd gathers around him and barely move when the tall man gets off his horse, the falcon nothing more but flapping his wings to remain on its master's shoulder during the movement. He is not a man from the mountains and the light both in color and fabric clothing could mean he is from the river tribe as well as his features.

“I would like to see the khan in the name of River Lands,” he speaks in a tongue clear and understandable, even though it is not his native. “I have a message from the Lord of the Valleys,” he continues and looks around the crowd until it opens at one point, letting the khan to walk through.

“Lord of the Steppe,” the tall man bows slightly before pulling a scroll of parchment from his sleeve. “The Lord of the Valleys is requesting your presence at his castle to seal the faith of the mountain tribes,” he speaks and hands the parchment to the khan. “They worked with criminals from our land in order to harm our good friends - you and your people - and a trial will be held for their leaders,” he explains as the khan looks over the scroll written in an overly fancied up nomad writing with the river tribes seal at the bottom of it.

“And if I refuse?” the khan asks and a knowing smirk appears on the messengers face. This response is probably one the river tribe’s leaders had predicted.

“Then, unfortunately, you will have another war on your hands which will not end in single battle. The Lord of the Valleys is very specific about people he wants to see,” the messenger explains and ‘no’ is probably not an answer that will be accepted. The khan inhales and exhales slowly before speaking.

“I will rethink the invite till tomorrow morning. Meanwhile, you are welcome to stay here,” he speaks and Minhyuk comes from behind him to take over, carrying Salkhi on his arm as if to assert dominance over the man with the falcon. It seems to work as the man loses his strict and emotionless look at the sight of the eagle and his focus goes to it. He doesn’t even manage to snap out fast enough to reply to the khan’s ultimatum until the later has left.

 

With the scroll in his hand and several people following him Hoseok walks straight into his tent. He inhales deeply again and is about to throw the parchment in the fire but he restrains himself. Instead, he walks to his chair and sits down, throwing the scroll on the floor. Again. Something is falling on his shoulders again - something he can’t avoid or escape even if he would try.

“You can’t refuse, you know that,” one of the elders speak and Hoseok can simply nod. He knows and feels how everyone in the room understand the weight pushing him down and all of them would be ready to ease it, but none of them can. 

“What is going on?” a deep, raspy voice asks from the bed and Hoseok immediately turns to it. ChangKyun is awake - today more than other days - and his eyes are locked on the khan. They follow the man as he rises from his chair and not even thinking of the other people in the room walks across the room to the bed. He kneels next to the bed, ChangKyun’s hand finding his or his find ChangKyun’s - at this point it is hard to tell who is drawn to whom more. 

“I…” Hoseok starts a sentence and then stops for a moment before continues, his heart getting heavier by the moment. “I will have to go away for a while,” he says the words unwilling to leave his lips. He hears how several of the ones who came in with him leave until probably not more than three people remain in the room with them.

“Why? To where? For how long?” questions rain from ChangKyun’s lips and his breathing speeds up, his lungs not fully recovered from the illness he fought before. 

“The leader of the river tribes is requesting my presence. I can’t say no. They would be too strong to take on ever for us,” he explains and rubs circles on the top of ChangKyun’s hand. “The ride to the river tribes lands takes at least 5 days. So, I will be gone for at least 10 days. Probably more,” there is a deep inhale from ChangKyun and he just nods. His grip almost loosens on Hoseok’s hand but in a second he grabs onto it even tighter.

“Don’t make me go get you again,” ChangKyun smiles faintly and that alone is enough for Hoseok. 

“I promise, I will return as fast I will be able to,” he reassures and raises ChangKyun’s hand to his forehead. 

“We will prepare to depart in the morning then. Which men will you take along?” the elder who remained behind asks and Hoseok turns to him, yet doesn’t let go of ChangKyun’s hand.

“Hyunwoo, Minhyuk and Woojin*. I know I can trust them with my life,” he says and the elder nods before leaving. Now the only person who remains from the people following in the tent is Hoseok’s mother. She takes the needed steps closer to the bed and gently pets ChangKyun’s head with a soft smile on her lips before looking at her son.

“We will take care of him and by your return he will be on his feet. Right?” she now asks ChangKyun and the latter nods. “This is not easier nor is it harder to move forward with this new test, but I know no matter how many tests will be given to you both, we all will be behind you to help. The heavens are preparing you for something great,” she adds and leaves, both of them remaining alone in the tent.

“I will have to be with the messenger of the river tribe in the evening, but I will come back as soon as I can,” Hoseok says even though he would love to stay here till the morning when he has to leave yet again, just because he already feels the weight of once more leaving ChangKyun behind when he is not well.

“Don’t worry,” the man smiles and even though his eyes read something so similar to heartbreak it’s almost physically painful the fact he could put on a smile in his physically weak state meant the world. Hoseok can’t be weak when ChangKyun is strong.

However, it is almost regretful he leaves as during the meal presented for the messenger he is not interested in no one but Minhyuk and Salkhi. His whole focus is on the eagle handler, who feeling this level of admiration might have pulled out his finest hunting attire for the meal. The man, Hyungwon is his name - that much everyone else learns, asks countless questions and compares each bit of information to the smaller hunting bird perched on his shoulder. From the looks of it even the two birds are rather bored by their owners and it is just a question of time before Hoseok excuses him from the table and disappears in his tent.

The moment he closes the door ChangKyun’s eyes open and he watches how the khan moves closer, placing away his boots and west on the way on the way to the bed. No questions are asked and as much as his body allows ChangKyun moves to the side of the bed, freeing space for the khan to lay down. The moment his body rests on the bed ChangKyun moves closer again, just barely but enough to feel the warmth radiating from the man - the warmth he has missed so much.

Gently, as if the man now in his arms could break, Hoseok pulls ChangKyun closer and for the first time in almost 7 days, he feels at ease. There were still many rocks in their road, but if they could move boulders a few rocks were nothing. Softly, his touch barely there, he embraces ChangKyun who seems to be as content in this moment as Hoseok and lets their body heat intervening and heartbeats syncing do all the talking.

Morning would come to separate them for time period both small and incredibly long right when they have truly realized what they are to each other but as the khan’s mother said - the heavens must be preparing them for something great.


	8. Epilogue: The Journey

_ ~ 3 weeks later ~ _

 

It is almost unreal to see the steppe, the forests and the distant mountains again. It all looks so barren and empty compared to crammed cities of the river people. Their homes rise into the sky, their roads paved with large rocks, their people all so similar to the messenger it was hard to tell them apart. Spare to say the nomads did not fit in the rustling city or the high-ceiling castle of the leader of the river people. Even more unsettling was for Hoseok to sit next to him during the trials, the throne hall in white marble and high thrones of the same manner unfamiliar and odd for him. Seeing the endless meadows is truly unreal usual in comparison but it instantly feels like home.

Home. Not only once during these days has his mind and heart traveled back to the camp in the middle of nowhere. Even when standing on a balcony of one of the high building that brought him closer to the clear starry sky, he was ready to give so much to sit in the meadow behind his tent and have ChangKyun next to him, looking at the sky with him. The cold walls with no color didn’t compare to the flowers blooming on each pole in his tent. The pale faces of the river people didn’t radiate the same warmth as the sun and wind kissed rosy cheeks of his fellow nomads. The steppe is his home - along with his people, along with ChangKyun.

“I can see them,” Minhyuk, who is quietly riding beside him suddenly speaks and when looking carefully Hoseok can see the white tents and the flags waving above them. His heart races in his chest. Thousands upon thousands of thoughts rush through his head but all end up in one destination - is he alright. 

As soon as they are at the edge of the camp the horn is sounded, shaking the air. People exit their homes and return from the meadows and cheer loudly cheer upon their return. A whole procession follows them to the center of the camp in front of the khan’s tent and nowhere has ever felt as right to be at as the camp at that very moment. 

Hopingly, Hoseok looks around the gathered crowd, hoping to see the face he has missed the most but before he can look at everyone the voice of his mother calls his name. “Hoseok,” she speaks gently and the bespoken looks down at the woman standing next to his horse. Swiftly, he jumps down from the horse and bows slightly. His mother’s hands gently rest on his cheeks and he can’t help but to smile and her warmth he had missed for this brief but still long period of time.

“How was the journey?” she asks and scans her son from top to bottom. “And why is he back?” she looks at the messenger who first came to the camp and is sitting on his horse next to Minhyuk.

“The journey was too long to my liking. And to keep a long story short, Minhyuk might have taken a liking of him and the other way around,” he smiles well knowing that suddenly bringing along someone from the river tribe will require a far more serious explanation than just “taking a liking”.

“Hoseok,” another voice interrupts the conversation with his mother and Hoseok instantly looks up at the direction where it came from. His heart, which he had not realized was this nervous, jumps at the sight of ChangKyun standing right in front of the tent. His hair is cut short - barely above his ears - but that suits him even better. His frame seems to be sinking in the simple attire and the very sight sends a tingle through Hoseok’s chest. He really has missed him this much.

“Go,” his mother encourages and he doesn’t need to be told twice. With large steps - as close to running without actually running as possible - Hoseok closes the distance between them and stops a step in front of ChangKyun. He is not sure what he can do, how far he can take the feeling tearing his chest apart from inside but gladly ChangKyun knows exactly what needs to be done.

He takes the remaining step closer and wraps his arms around Hoseok’s neck pulling him into an embrace as tight as he can physically give. Just a moment is needed for Hoseok to embrace the man as well and letting his heart burst at the seams but from nothing less than pure joy at this moment.

“Welcome home,” ChangKyun whispers and exactly at that moment it actually feels like returning to a place where Hoseok truly belonged to. It finally feels like all the tests placed on him are over, that all burdens are lifted from him. Even more, it almost feels like years of holding back feeling weak are shattered. 

Slowly, he pulls away from the tight embrace to properly look at ChangKyun’s face. He runs his fingers through the now short hair and lets his hands rest of the soft cheeks, running his thumbs over them. The rays of the high noon sun play in the deep brown eyes and not a single view from high above in the sky compared to the light reflecting in them.

“I am so glad to be back,” Hoseok can just say the few words quietly as the more he looks at ChangKyun the more he realizes how close he had been to losing him, for how long he has been away from him and not only during this journey but before with his words and actions as well. 

“I’m glad to be back as you are what I can call home,” he speaks and the light appearing in ChangKyun’s eyes could make him shed a tear of happiness. To keep both of them together he rests his forehead against ChangKyun’s and once more pulls him a bit closer by the middle. Their noses touch and even though there are hundreds of eyes looking at them neither truly wants to move, however, they have to.

“I… I cooked today. So, your right in time,” ChangKyun is the one to pull away now. There is the slightest tint of pink on his cheeks and Hoseok feels the heat rising in his ears. This is the silliest feeling but being away from the man gifted to him by the heavens he realized once more how much he means to him. It is difficult to put in words or actions but the way being close to him again makes Hoseok feels is incredible.

“Lead the way,” he smiles and allows ChangKyun to take his hand and lead him to the campfire near the tent. As always the rustling of the camp takes over in mere moments. People rush to eat and back to their daily deeds. The most curious ones, especially the kids, swarm around the man from the river tribe, his looks standing out. In all honesty, it is almost a relief for Hoseok. At this moment he doesn’t appreciate anything more but taking his seat at the campfire and receiving a bowl of wonderfully smelling stew from ChangKyun. The stories on the road can be told by others. The decisions made in the meetings can wait until tomorrow. For half a day he can be selfish. Perhaps that is the lesson these tests have given him.

The hearty lunch almost turns into a feast as all of the camps gathers in one spot carrying along their own tables, seats, and food. The alcohol gets drawn from the tents along with treats meant for festive times. Soon the musicians have pulled their instruments from their homes and set up a dance space. Even without preparation, the nomads could create a celebration faster than many and it is more authentic than large receptions in marble halls.

When the first layer of twilight falls over the camp and wine has been pouring in the glasses, stories of the river tribe’s cities told by Minhyuk in the tiniest detail, his sharp eyes not missing a thing, dances begin as if on a queue. For everyone’s surprise the tall newcomer Hyungwon stands up as well and joins the whirl of movements. The breezy outfit he is wearing gives extra elegance to his movements and soon the nomads step aside and just observe how the man dances, drawing the music out with his body.

In a spur of a moment, Minhyuk jumps out from his seat to join in. At first it looks a bit comedic as he tries to match the man but soon he not only repeats the same movements but both of them fluidly join in dances and every single one - young or old, man or woman - are enchanted by how the two move, completely commanding the music rather than obeying it. All but one are focused on their dance.

Hoseok’s focus is on ChangKyun. The latter has laid his head on Hoseok’s shoulder, the softest smile on his lips as he observes the two dancing. The flames from the campfires and the shadows of the dancers move in his eyes as if they are a completely different world and Hoseok can’t look away from them. He is so mesmerized he curls his fingers under ChangKyun’s chin and gently turns the man’s head so he would look at him. It is probably the biggest mistake he has ever done. 

An invisible force draws him closer, it might be the beat of the drums that speed up his heartbeat or the hypnotizing flames dancing in ChangKyun’s eyes, but he can only move closer and closer. The tip of his nose touches ChangKyun’s and he feels how he is still being pulled closer and even more he feels how ChangKyun moves closer too. His breathing is as rushed as the speeding up the rhythm of the bells, his eyes falling shut slowly and opening to look at the khan with even more intensity.

It is the fastest decision made in his life but Hoseok jumps up from his seat, leaving ChangKyun confused before his hand reaches out. Another one lays in it immediately and without a single word being said their feet rush through the camp, the dance ending just as they turn the corner. Their road leads right to their tent. The whole room is dark apart from a pale moonlight falling from the smoke opening, giving the room a faint blue light.

As the doors fall shut behind them their bodies find each other instantly - being as close as possible. Hoseok’s hands gently cup the shorter man’s face, even in near-complete darkness his eyes possess the same enchanting power. The urge to be even closer is persistent and loud. It’s pounding in his chest and rushes through his mind; it tingles in his fingertips and runs over his spine until he can’t take it any longer. Despite everything inside of him rushing, being pushed forward by longing and relief of being home with the one he can call home, Hoseok acts almost absurdly slowly.

He decreases the distance between the two of them until their lips touch. It’s just the lightest touch but he feels his whole body shiver and a matching shiver rushing through ChangKyun. As slowly he pulls away, his eyes finding the shorter man’s but for his surprise, he can’t catch the man’s gaze before he feels his lips back on his. It’s braver and bolder than the kiss Hoseok attempted and as if he doesn’t want to lose, he returns the liplock with the same intensity. It is a bit desperate, a bit messy at first as if neither wants to lose or show weakness while this very act proves how weak both of them are.

It takes a moment for a rhythm to settle, for harmony to appear in the liplock but the moment it happens it is impossible to stop. They haven’t been closer than this before and perhaps the needed for it is more vital than they could imagine. Perhaps, if both of them would have made a step forward earlier before the very heavens tested them it would have been easier. Perhaps the heavens punished them for hiding their true hearts.

Both of them pull away, their heavy breathing echoing around the room as they rest their foreheads together. Words are not needed as the noise could just ruin the moment. There are voices and cheers, music and laughter outside, but the perfect silence in the room is what matters. Their bodies begin to sway along with melody outside but they remain as close as before. Everything that is held back for unknown periods of time seems to burst out all at the same time and can’t be contained anymore.

“Can I confess something?” ChangKyun is the one breaking the silence first, being the bravest of the two at the given moment. “I told you I wished to be taken away by the nomads for many years, right?” he speaks quietly - so only Hoseok would hear. He rests his head on the slightly taller man’s shoulder and tightens his hold around him. In return, he gets hugged even tighter and a soft ‘yes’ is whispered against the top of his head.

“Not the nomads. It wasn’t the nomads I wanted to be taken away by. It was you,” he admits and looks up at the man now looking at him. “Since the very first time I saw you when we both were just kids I wanted you to take me away from there. I didn’t understand what that feeling meant until I truly met you,” he raises his head from the man’s shoulder to look him in the eyes better. “I always knew I have to be by your side,” he smiles and a rough but warm hand cups his cheek.

Their lips meet again and this time it’s slow and neither wants to prove a thing but just enjoy the connection. It is much shorter than the first one, but it feels even more right. “I was so afraid that I was left behind again when you didn't return for so long. It’s so silly,” ChangKyun speaks again and even though he feels like a fool he can’t look away from the man before him.

“I will never leave you behind again. Ever,” Hoseok gently runs his fingers through the short, brown hair. “I have done it far too many times already,” he sounds sad but there is a smile on his lips as he rests their foreheads together again. “But how far are you now willing to go with me?” he asks and the answer comes instantly.

“To the end of the world,” ChangKyun replies and the smile on Hoseok's lips grow even wider.

"Then, if I would say that I want to build an empire - from here to the end of the world - would you do it with me?" he asks and receives a soft kiss as a response.

"Yes," ChangKyun confirms once more and it all that matters for both of them. It's a promise beyond a wedding oath - a promise that opened a whole world before them, a world to tackle head first and conquer if needed.  


The feast is left forgotten, the comfort of their bed and each other's embrace far more essential and needed than anything else. Just till dawn they could be a little selfish. Conquering the world together could wait till then.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This wonderful and intense journey has come to an end.  
> I have finally managed to sit down and finish this the way I wanted it and I must say I am extremely happy with it! And I hope you enjoyed it too! **Please, let me know through a comment.** ;)  
> With this, however, I am going on a small hiatus. I will write without posting for a while and probably return after the school years is over - so around June. With what and how I will come back, you will be able to catch on my [Twitter](https://twitter.com/BeanSensei). Also, I suggest subscribing to my [Periscope](https://www.pscp.tv/YoungSoonGi/1OyJApMNqYyGb), as I might do a live about the story and hiatus tomorrow (14.04.19).  
> Thank you for this journey!  
> Love, Bean!

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on: [Twitter](https://twitter.com/BeanSensei) I am always down for new Monbebe/WonKyun friends!  
>   
>  **OTHER WONKYUN**  
>  **||** [WonKyun drabbles : The Last Of The Real Ones ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13358346) **||** [The Blue Flower ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8245657) **||** [Come Back Alive](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8411509) **||** [Addiction Series](https://archiveofourown.org/series/581722) **||** [Leashes and Kisses](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7740334) **||** [Ribbons and Rings](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9198269) **||** [I'm Thankful for You](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8347240) **||** [Silent Appreciation](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7733332) **||** [Worth It](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9570284) **||** [Beneath The Surface](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9604883) **||** [A Little Less 16 Candles](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9810344) **||** [Mechanical Feelings series](https://archiveofourown.org/series/959832) **||** [Cat Person](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13935078) **||** [Growth](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14009844) **||** [Between Pages](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16602338) **||** [Take it Off](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16661525) **||** [A New Eternity](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17013945) **||** [Just You](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17309879)


End file.
